#that right there is why it's even better when he DOES become famous

[leverage-ot3]

I feel like there is an alignment here...

nate- does not want to be famous, does not become famous

sophie- kind of wants to be famous, does not become widely famous (exception: becoming beloved first lady of san lorenzo and gets her face on a bill). knows that becoming famous would hinder her ability to con

hardison- wants to be famous for the meme, does not become famous (though not for lack of trying)

parker- does not want to be famous, does not become famous

eliot- does NOT under ANY CIRCUMSTANCE want to be famous, frequently becomes famous

I've seen people talk about it before on here, about how eliot is good at virtually everything and that would be tired really quick if not for the fact that he doesn't show off about it (for the most part) and VEHEMENTLY does not want to be famous or acknowledged for those skills. he very much wants to stay under the radar, which is why it is funnier and a better running gag that he keeps getting famous against his will

bonus: parker and hardison continually use whatever power they have to make eliot's aliases famous. they keep entering his various aliases in cooking shows and stuff like that because they think it is funny when he gets all huffy about it (and they know despite his moaning and groaning he likes being able to do things he's good at that doesn't involve violence!)

so i'm re-binging Leverage and is it just me or does it seem like whenever they have to be celebrities for a con none of them actually become mildly famous except for Eliot

[reignpage]

Movie Night

Summary: in which alien!reader asks Gojo to teach her a little something Word Count: 1.8k Warnings: smut, not proofread

Day 7

“What’s wrong, E?”

All fresh from a shower, you and Satoru are sitting in the sofa, watching a movie. He’s finally bought you your own clothes and you’re dressed in a warm jumper and cosy pants. Satoru won’t lie; he’s grieving the pleasure of seeing you drown in his clothes. But you were ecstatic at the sight of the space themed pjs and so he was left with nothing to do but he happy. 

Wrapped under a thick blanket, you’re huddled by his side, clutching his shirt. As with every movie, every night, you ask questions, and he answers as best as he can. He’s insanely grateful that you can understand him when he explains things like what a car is (a moving vehicle) or who Gordon Ramsey is (a famous chef known for being very wrinkly and very angry). It seems that your biggest issue, however, is stringing a full sentence together. 

You’ve been getting much better, accelerating at a rate no human could manage. It’s both impressive and terrifying. 

Right now, you’re tilting your head at a particular scene. Satoru forgot the plot of the money and he really regrets not keeping an eye out for the age rating, because on the screen plays a steamy, kiss scene. 

In fact, ‘kiss’ isn’t even the right word; they’re making out. 

How you both managed to last a week of doing nothing but watch movies without coming across a kiss scene he’ll never know. But the moment’s finally arrived and he is not any more prepared than he was on the first night.

He winces at the sound lips smacking against each other, a blush on his cheeks. A kiss is nothing -- he’s done far more than that, and multiple times. But, for some reason, he’s feeling a little shy. It might have something to do with the fact that you’re staring up at him with your big, curious eyes. 

“What they doing?” You ask. 

Satoru gulps. He’s become painfully aware of how close you are — his arm is trapped between your breasts, just a thin layer separating him from your soft flesh, and, under the blanket, your leg is strung ever so slightly on his thigh. He can smell his shampoo emanating from you with something sweet coursing just under that masculine scent. 

Chuckling uncomfortably, he explains, “They’re kissing.”

“Why?”

He has half a mind to turn the TV off and declare an earlier bedtime, but you look so innocent he feels bad that he was thinking of something indecent. He’s your friend. He can’t prey on you and take advantage of your reliance on him. Plus, how would a kiss between two people from different intergalactic species even work?

Would it be the same? Or does it lead to pregnancy straight away? What if you lay eggs in his mouth? What if he lays eggs in your mouth?

Composing himself, he searches for the right words. “It’s something people do to express their love for each other, I guess. Well, not all the time, actually. Sometimes it’s just for pleasure.”

“Pleasure?”

Why, oh, why did you have to focus on that one word? 

And why on everything that is good in this world is this scene so long?

“It means to feel good.”

The hand clutching his shirt flattens out until it’s feeling the hard planes of his chest and absorbing the vibrations of his heartbeat. You drum your fingers at the same pace, smiling softly. The heat of your hand, of your entire body, is setting his skin alight. Suddenly, it’s too hot under the blanket, there isn’t enough room or air, and he needs to go but he can’t bear to. 

Batting your lashes, you inquire, “How to make pleasure, Toru? How kiss feel good?”

Brushing a lock of hair behind your ear, he corrects you, “It’s, ‘how does kissing make you feel good’, E. Try again for me?”

You taste the words, lips stretching to practice the movement before you parrot back perfectly, “Tell me how kissing makes you feel good, Toru.”

Oh, fuck. 

Why did he make you repeat it in perfect Japanese? Why did he have to use this very moment as a learning opportunity? 

Curse his perfect teaching instincts!

He’s about to shrug you off, using sleepiness as an excuse to retreat, but then you’re leaning even closer, licking your lips and eyeing his. Warmth is spreading through his body, circulating in one particular area and he’s hoping you don’t move your leg any higher otherwise this will turn into a completely different conversation and he’s not certain he could survive giving you an anatomy lesson without getting a nosebleed. 

Licking his own lips, he grazes your cheek with his fingers. The skin he touches glows the very faintest hint of blue. He’s reeling. Up till now, he thought that your skin glows when you’re sleeping, but apparently you also glow when you’re being touched. But this isn’t the first time he’s touched you. 

Was it because before he was trying very, very hard not to stare?

He doesn’t know, and regardless, he can’t stop touching you. Satoru presses on your adorable cheeks to watch it light up, the way his is flushing red. Whispering, he asserts, “I can’t tell you how kissing feels, E.” 

Your hand presses harder against his chest, fingers splaying across the expanse. Subconsciously, he juts it out just a little. And with the most seductive voice, you demand, “Show me then, Toru. Make me feel good?”

Oh, and when you ask like that, how could anyone ever resist you?

There’s a tantalising closeness between you, just a hairsbreadth away from touching. When he finally closes that minuscule gap, a purr like thrum echoes through you. He kisses you, sweet and gentle, simply pressing his lips against yours. There’s nothing human about this, not with the invigorating taste of you, the scalding feel of your skin, and impossible softness of your body on his. 

“This is a kiss?” You mumble.

Chuckling, he says, “No, E. This is.”

With one hand holding the back of your neck, he sucks your bottom lip, unable to help himself from deepening the kiss. You gasp into his mouth, and he dives his tongue in, meeting yours. He knows he should slow down, should let you adjust to a friendly peck before he takes more than you can give, but you taste so good and it’s like he’s drunk. 

There’s a force, a gravitation pull drawing him in. He can’t resist it, can’t fight it, he isn’t even trying. 

You pull back in shock. 

Satoru chases after you, dragging you back in. He kisses you again. Groaning into your mouth, he slides a hand down to your leg, rising up your thigh. You jolt, a shiver running through your body. That electrifying purring hums in the air again and he’s smiling, hand rising and rising until he’s curving against your ass and carrying you over his thighs.

“This feels... I feel...,” you whimper, at a loss for words. 

Squeezing your thighs, he coos, “It’s alright, sweet thing. I’ve got you. You wanted to learn pleasure, right? Who better to teach you than Toru, hmm?”

You shiver again when he whispers that against your neck, nose skimming your jaw and lips curling. He’s inhaling deeply, eyes fluttering close at the weight of your body pressing down on him and your addictive scent. 

He can’t tell if this is all you or if it’s an alien thing, but he doesn’t care. Not in this moment, not when your hips are churning as he sucks at your neck, laying burning kisses against your skin, and watching the blue light dance under your skin. 

“Oh, E,” he sighs. “Are you grinding on me, baby? You want more than just a kiss, is that it? My greedy, greedygirl.”

When your clothed core rubs just right against his throbbing length, you throw your head back, that purring noise a hiss and it vibrates against his cheek as he listens to your rapid heartbeat. He can feel how wet you are; you’re soaking through your panties and pyjama bottoms.

Satoru’s growing dizzy.

One hand guides your hips to gyrate on him whilst the other clutches your throat to pull your lips back to his. Satoru knows he should stop now that he’s already taught you what you asked for, but he can’t. He just can’t. The thrill of going further, of testing your, and his, limits is too much for one man to resist. Even if that man is the strongest sorcerer in the world, even if not a whole gaggle of curses could pose a threat to him. 

“Toru!”

He thrusts upwards the same time he tugs you down and the elongated moan that leaves you, hips stuttering and hands frantically searching for purchase on his broad shoulders, leaves him feeling lightheaded. “That’s it, E. Take what you need.”

Your eyes are flashing blue, a darker hue than his own, and he’s amazed. Everything about you is incredible, like you were created to be his temptation, to be his undoing. Whether aliens have souls or not, he doesn’t know, but he does know that if you did, his and yours would be the same, all blue and perfect. 

Laughing, he leans back, hands simply resting on your thighs as you ride out your orgasm, shocked eyes pleading for explanation, for reason but finding none in his. That purring gets louder and louder, the vibrations stronger now and they’re flowing straight from your soaked pussy and right onto his cock. 

“Oh shit!” Satoru groans, nails digging suddenly. Within seconds, he’s cumming in his boxers, hot cream flooding his underwear from inside at the same time your wetness seeps through on top. “Jesus, E! That’s fucking intense, what the hell.”

He’s panting, eyes shut tightly as he keeps grinding your hips on his cock. 

You slump onto him just as he falls back. You’re completely depleted of energy, and he knows exactly what you’re feeling. Rubbing your back, he presses a kiss to your hair, muttering ‘well done’ and ‘good job’. 

“How was that for pleasure?”

Smacking his chest, you mumble a complaint. “Toru mean.”

He laughs agains.

“Sorry, E. You were just too cute.”

You raise your head, eyes bleary and fluttering shut. You meet his gaze, shaky fingers reaching for his lips and tracing them, all sore and pink, like you’re amazed at him the way he is at you. “Thank you. Kissing is nice.”

“We did a little more than just kissing, E. But sure, you’re welcome,” he chuckles. 

Eventually, you both fall asleep in each other’s arms right there on the sofa, ‘Are You Still Watching’ filling the TV screen and not the movie he can’t even remember the name of, drying cum posing a problem he’ll have to deal with in the morning.

He dreams of sapphire streaks in the air, of giant balls of fire, and an angel descending with its arms outstretched. And he hopes he never wakes up.

[leeknow-thoughts]

𝅄  ׅ⊹ ۪ ꣑୧ dance of the sugarplum fairy

𝝑𝝔 l.mh x f!reader

𝝑𝝔 synopsis : Minho believes in fact over fiction. He's a scientist. It's practically in his blood. You're as much of a scientist as he is, hell, a better one than him at that. Yet, you still find wonder in the holidays. While you find wonder in presents and twinkling lights. Minho finds wonder in you. Could a confession gone wrong end up going right for him? Could you reciprocate his feelings that he's been pushing down for years and years?

𝝑𝝔 warnings : chemistry professor!minho, chemistry professor!reader, f!reader, mutual pining, christmas in a non-religious way, crying (in a sappy way), jisung! cameo, tooth rotting fluff, smut got mixed in with my fluff??, no clear dynamics, but minho is mommy (sorry guys act fucking surprised), mommy!kink, shower sex, p in v (unprotected, pls don't do this!!), pet names, pls lmk if I missed any warnings!!

𝝑𝝔 note from the author ! : Calliope once again indulges in soft!minho and doesn't apologize for it >_< I hope everyone is having a wonderful holiday season and that all who celebrate Christmas get exactly what they wanted!! :3

You're as reactive as Fluorine, and Minho wishes he didn't think of you chemically the way he does. He wishes he didn't immediately think of you when he thought of work and his experiments and the fucking teaching position he held. He wishes he could just think of you for you and he could go fuck off for all he cares - having a crush on his coworker.

And you're humming along to the song playing over the radio - some Clario song, he only knows who that is because you love her music. Honestly, he thinks you like music more than you like chemistry - so why did you choose to do this for a living?

You surely weren't a bad singer - Minho had heard you sing, it puts the harked herald angels to shame if he does say so - and you certainly were pretty enough to be famous.

Pretty was an understatement, you were the most devine creation to walk this earth. There's no way in his mind that he can conceptualize that you breathe the same oxygen as him - to him it was a privilege that he got to see you at all.

You were sought after, every fucking college in the nation wants you to work for them, yet you stay here. It wasn't like the place you work at is bad, it's MIT for Christ's sake, but Harvard has been asking for you for years.

He's almost offended by it, colleges treating you and all your brilliance like a tradeable Pokémon card.

Speaking of Pokémon, you're watching it on your phone as you finish up a lab report. How you can listen to music and watch a show and write a detailed report baffles Minho, but he doesn't question you because you're you, and he's the utter fool in love with you.

"You're spacing out Minho," your voice graces his ears, fuck, was he staring at you? "You look like you need a coffee, let's go get a cup, I'll pay."

You smile that sweet smile and talk in your sweet voice any longer and he's sure he's going to go insane. You're letting your hair down and it falls just right, framing your face perfectly. You had curled it that morning, and worn a perfume that smells like autumn.

He knows it's ridiculously foolish to consider something a chance that is nothing but stolen glances and blush stained cheeks and private thoughts. He can't help it.

"I think Jisung needs to start letting you get some sleep, you're zoning out so much," you hum with such concern, and he crumbles.

He feels almost dirty. Dirty for the thoughts he has of you. Dirty for the reason he isn't getting much sleep. Thinking about you in ways that would terrify a Catholic, or hell, even an atheist.

"'t's not Jisung," he slurs his words together.

They become a wet mix of vowels and articulations when he's talking to you. He hopes he doesn't sound this fucking dumb when he is teaching.

"Maybe you're sick," you tilt your head.

It's a habit you have, tilting your head when you make a statement. He finds it endearing. It was one of the first things about you that he perceived as such.

"'m fine, promise," he brushes off, "'nd I don' need any coffee."

"Well, you better wake up before the festival," you sigh, and he hates to think he let you down.

The festival, fuck, that is today. Each year the college throws a winter festival for the students, a lot of sororities and fraternities set up booths and the cafeteria gets turned upside down with decorations. The faculty's Secret Santa too, shit, he hasn't wrapped his gift. He really doesn't hate the festival or the idea of it, it keeps him young. He just doesn't know if he is gonna be able to stay around you any longer.

"Who did you get for Secret Santa?" you ask, taking a seat at the table, returning to your lab reports.

"Jus' Lix," he hates how drunk he sounds, "what about you? You always go above and beyond in the gift department."

He would never lie to you, you do go above and beyond with gifts. Each year, you go all out, spending a ridiculous amount of time and effort when it comes to the gifts you buy for people.

"Can't say unfortunately," you whisper, "or else it wouldn't be a secret."

You give him a smile that makes his stomach do a flip. "But I did get you something," you perk up.

You walk over to your bag and pull out a wrapped parcel, and carefully hand it over to him. "Thought you'd like it, took forever for it to ship over from overseas."

Minho examines the neatly wrapped box, wrapped in pink wrapping paper with a pink bow tied on top of the box. "Thank you," he sounds breathless.

He opens it carefully, and is met with a white box. He pulls the lid off and pulls out the cloth that sits on the bottom of the box. Revealing a white lab coat. The fabric is crisp and ironed. In the corner the text 'Dr. Minho Lee, PhD' is embroidered in black. Underneath the lettering is another embroidered patch. Instead of his name though, it's his three cats. Each of the cats looks identical to their real counterparts. "Sorry if it's stupid, I-" you apologize, "I just- I dunno-"

Stupid? It's the most thoughtful gift he has gotten in a long time. It comes from your heart, how could it be stupid.

You're the most beautiful and thoughtful person he's ever met. I love you, loved you for so long, he thinks to himself. He's so moved he almost feels like crying.

"Minho," you're quiet, stunned into silence.

He just realizes how his mouth has betrayed his mind, and his legs are moving with a panic.

The air is so damn dense as he sprints down the hall from the lab. The white fluorescent lights taunt him with their hum as he dashes away. Away from you, away from the chance that was all in his head.

He is gripping at the tie around his neck. He sees no comfort in the double doors out of the science lab, he is running without reason.

He breaks through the double doors and is soaked almost instantly. The snow is heavy and it patters against his body.

His legs stop moving, and he just stands there. In the snow. Terribly cold and terribly wet. He could curse God, but he doesn't believe in Him.

The doors behind him open and close. Doom blooms in his rapidly rising and falling chest. "Minho," it's you again, "Minho, you'll catch a cold."

His legs are frozen through. He couldn't move if there were a bear chasing him. He can't speak either. He's rendered silent. "Minho, it's about fucking time you confessed, b-because I-I l-love you too."

He can suddenly find the strength to face you.

When he does, the first thing he notices is your face. Mascara has soaked your cheeks, tear stains evident. "Y-huh? Wh-why are you c-crying?"

"Because I fucking love you," you sound weak- Minho never heard your voice sound so scared, "a-and you love me too? Did you mean it? You love me too?"

You're equally as soaked by the snow as he is. Your arms are crossed over your chest. He moves before he thinks, there really is nothing to think.

Hypothesis : you want him to kiss you. And according to the scientific method, he must test his hypothesis.

He's putting one foot in front of the other and moving to you. He wastes no time, simply cupping your face and pulling you in for a kiss.

Sparks fly like shown in movies, his lips feel tingly and he can feel his heartbeat in every bone of his body.

Your lips are even softer than he imagined. Soft and molding against his own in ways that make him dizzy.

Like throwing a block of lithium into a pond, he feels like he may explode. Every atom in his body is undergoing a chain reaction that is so right he would never stop it.

"Love you," he's mumbling against your lips, "loved you for so long. You're everything I've ever wanted."

Tears brim his lashes, they nearly fall, but he is too elated to cry. "Minho," your voice is muffled by the sloppy kisses you're placing on his lips. You let out a groan and Minho's composure crumbles.

"Always been you," you hum, "since I met you, no one else."

All he had known until now had been decomposed and resynthesized. Like a chemical equation. He hates that he still thinks of you chemically.

Yet, he'd count every atom in your body so he could find out why you're so you. He's tear apart the heavens and the earth and chemically rearrange them just to see you smile.

Your bodies are melting together, forming a mixture of desperation, love, and lust. His hands are gripping every inch of your soft flesh available.

"Minho- mhm- take m-me home," you whimper into his mouth.

He kisses you one last time. He knows he will have this life, and the next to kiss you, he's in no rush.

His eyes finally open again, and he swears he has never seen a more beautiful sight. Your makeup is running down your face, and your lips are kiss bitten. Your body is pressed against his, and your hands are cupping his jaw. "H-home?" He stutters like a little kid.

"Your house," you grin, and he swears there's a mischievous glint in your eyes, "unless you don't wanna see me naked?"

If his jaw hadn't been on the floor before, it definitely was now. "God," he groans, "c'mon."

He's pulling you along with him, in the pouring snow, to his apartment. "If I catch a cold because of you, Lee Minho," you vaguely threaten.

"Then I'll nurse you back to health," he immediately replies.

You're both placing one foot in front of the other at a fast pace. When he sees his apartment around the corner, his heart thumps rapidly in his chest.

He doesn't struggle with the keys even though his hands are shaking beyond reasonable doubt. The warmth and comfort from his home is nothing compared to that which he gets from you.

He's stepping inside and pulling you in with him before slamming the door closed. A sudden fear rises in his chest, and any semblance of what to do next faded from his mind.

You notice this, you notice everything. "You okay?" you press your body against him.

You're both soaked from head to toe in cold water, yet you're so warm against him. "I-I?" he's stunned, like a dear in headlights.

You try and fail to hide the disappointment in your tone when you say, "do you not want t-"

He doesn't even leg you finish the sentence, "-I do. I do. I do. I-It's just not supposed to hap-happen like this."

"Please explain?"

"I - I have pictured, I've thought about us- us doing this, and I-I feel like I'm doing it wrong," you search his eyes for a clue as to what he means, "I mean-I just thought it would be so much more, romantic. N-not the confession, the- I just want to make it perfect for you."

"And how would you do that?"

"With rose petals and red wine and candles and-"

You shut him up with a kiss that is broken all too soon for Minho's preference, "you're such a dork, oh my god," you sigh playfully and hit his chest lightly, "I don't want roses or red wine, or candles. Minho, I want you. That's it."

"I-I," he stutters and can feel his cheeks heating up, "w-we should hop in the shower?"

"Excellent idea," you smirk.

Minho takes your hand in his and leads you to his bathroom, "sorry for the mess," he apologizes but knows that you won't mind.

He takes his eyes off you for only a moment to turn on the warm water, and when he turns back to you, you're halfway undressed. He swears he's never seen anything as beautiful as you.

You with your shirt and skirt in a heap on the floor, the only thing covering you is your underwear. Black cotton panties with lace hemmed on the side and a matching black bra.

You're reaching behind your back to unclasp your bra when he speaks up, "let me."

You smile at him and turn around, Minho's lips ghost down the side of your neck while his hands busy themselves, taking off your bra. He kisses down the back of your neck and your body shudders against his own.

You eagerly flip around and press your lips against his own. Now it's your hands that are pulling at his soaked shirt. You break the kiss but only for a moment, only so you can take off his shirt.

"Mhm," you moan into his mouth and Minho's grabbing at your sides like a madman.

His fingers hook under your panties and pull them down your legs.

And he finally gets a good look at your most sacred parts. They're more beautiful than his mind has ever painted them to be. Your breasts are soft to his touch, not too big nor too small. And your cunt, it looks tastier than a Sunday dinner in his eyes. His eyes rake down your happy trail that connects to your neatly trimmed bush and he wants to kiss it. He wants to kiss every inch of your skin.

He pulls down his boxers with his pants, and his semi-hard cock aches to be touched, to be inside you. You take his hand and step under the stream of water. He follows.

He'd follow you anywhere.

Hot water brings life to his cold skin. He's wrapping his arms around you, and his lips push against your own. "Where's the scar from?" you mumble the question between kisses.

"Had surgery wh-when I was a kid," he only stumbles over his words because your hand wraps around his cock and starts to slowly pump him.

He's so sensitive it hurts. Hurts all over. His body writhes at its own accord. "Your cock is so fucking pretty," you hum.

The words are filthy, but they sound as holy as the Pope's because they're said by you. "Baby- I-" you're so good at making him feel good.

Had you done this with someone else? Had you jerked them off in their shower? Had you ever brought another person this much pleasure?

Jealously pools in his chest at the idea of you with anyone that isn't him. "W-why are you so good at this? I-I just, please, wanna be the last. Can't handle the idea o-of you doing this to anyone but me," he confesses.

His sudden confession makes you falter and he tries to read the expression on your face, "last time I did this was before I met you, there's never been anyone since I met you. You were always gonna be it for me."

He almost sinks to his knees he feels so stupid. "D-do you want me to prep you?"

"There's no need, I promise," you smile at him.

You flip around, your body is pressed against his shower wall, the warm water hits his back and he swears he's never been more comfortable in his whole life.

He holds his cock in his hands and lines it up at your entrance. "You ready?" He can't help but sound a little cocky.

"God, Minho, just put it in," you whine.

His knees falter when he finally presses inside you, your walls are warm, inviting. You were right, you didn't need any prep.

"Oh, God," he groans even though he only has his tip in, "fuck, don't know how long I'm gonna last."

"Don't worry," you hum, a sharp squeak leaves your mouth when he stills all the way inside you.

He's buried so far in his cock is pressed up against your cervix. A shiver runs through his body when he finally thrusts inside you. You're tight and warm and so soft.

He's desperate, with every thrust of his hips he is losing every drop of his composure.

"Harder," you beg, "fuck me like you mean it."

His hips slam against your own, and you let out cries of pleasure as your body convulses against his own.

"Love you," you repeat the words like a mantra, they tumble from your lips with every thrust of his hips.

His hand wraps around your body and finds your clit. He would die if he didn't make you cum first. "Ah, jagi," he moans.

"Ah, Min- mama," you don't even realize what you're saying.

Mama? That was new, but he wouldn't protest. Not to you. Not in a million lifetimes.

"Mama, hmm?" Minho whimpers, "you wanna call me that?"

"Mhm," you nod your head furiously, "love you so much!"

How he loves you too.

His hand glides down your body and finds your swollen clit, he rubs it tenderly as his hips stutter in their movements. "Mama!" you squeal, "gonna cum!"

Minho can't warn you before he cums. He swears on everything he knows, this was the best sex he's ever had. His body convulses against yours and all that can be heard is the water hitting the shower and the both of your debauched breaths.

"Love you," you whisper.

Minho places a kiss on your spine, "I love you so much more, jagi. Merry Christmas."

[aebinspa]

dopamine

PAIRING: giselle x y/n reader

GENRES: suggestive, angst, reader hates giselle and they end up doing a project for school together lmao, meangirl!giselle, reader and giselle are a menace to society, jimin (aespa) and juyeon (tbz) are in a study group together and they are incredibly optimistic, mentions of sex, kiss, swearing.

WORD COUNT: 2.5k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: english is not my first language! so i’m practicing my writing hoping it can get better and better. AND stream giselle's dopamine it's so good <3

Nothing could have prepared you for the worst news of your life: you, aware that you love loneliness and hate forced contact with others, were assigned to group work with Aeri Uchinaga, famous for not contributing to any group work and for being always in the middle of too many, too many men.

After leaving a resigned sigh you approach your best friend Jimin to tell her about the unfortunate fate that struck you. "Among all and I say among all those that could happen to me, HER" "You’re tragic even if she has a bad reputation. Perhaps a woman like you who does nothing but read, read, and read will surrender and become incredibly willing!" "Funny Jimin. Who did you get?" "Juyeon and they also say that besides being incredibly beautiful he is also incredibly gifted" whispers Jimin, thinking that this could save her from the embarrassment of such a statement. "Enough, I’ve heard enough. I’m going home."

On the way back, angry and sad, you noticed a really nice coffee in which you would have wanted to stop but the change that you had in your wallet would not be enough even for half a sandwich. The puff you pulled out scared a stray cat that was stealing a piece of bread from the ground. Why does everything feel so strange to me?

The next day, as you arrived in class, you noticed Juyeon’s huge body very close to your best friend’s; you came up to check if Jimin was all right only to see that her face had a loving expression. "Good morning guys" you are starting, trying to forget what you just saw. "Hi, Jimin told me a few things about you. How nice to meet you" The two-door wardrobe that took the name of Juyeon squeezed you in a strong embrace that leaves you breathless. Men are really scary. "Hey Y/N, Giselle was looking for you earlier." "Who?" "That’s how us boys call her!" "You… guys?" "Giselle is part of my group, at least once we all go out together!" Juyeon’s enthusiasm was overwhelming but not enough to influence you. "Ah, she's going out with you."

"Y/N" What a hateful voice, not changed by a comma. You didn’t sunbathe at first; you wanted to see how much the little princess could have withstood without a bit of attention. Juyeon - this time with the help of Jimin - thought about involving her. "You might as well look me in the eye when I talk to you." "Go fuck yourself, Giselle. You sound like the 'ass-kicking' girl”. It didn’t take even half a second for you both to turn in the opposite direction. Jimin and Juyeon, moved by the situation, tried to calm things down. “How about you girls come to my house? Jimin and I have to do our project but there’s no problem if you come too. The table is big, the fridge is full and the more the merrier!” Juyeon shouted enthusiastically.

The idea of ​​being alone in an empty room with Giselle terrified you so it didn’t seem like a bad idea to accept without too many problems; the other seemed to agree too.

“Perfect! Then let’s all go to Juyeon’s this Friday afternoon!” Oh Jimin, you could have avoided this.

Unfortunately for you and Giselle, Friday arrives in the blink of an eye. Juyeon’s imposing house stood in front of you and Jimin. “Not only is he handsome and gifted, but he also has a huge house. What more can I ask for?” “You could say a little prayer for me, for example” “Giselle won’t be able to tear your hair out if Juyeon and I are there with you” Jimin smiled at you as if to reassure you. “Good thing you always see the positive side…” you replied, already tired at the idea of having to enter that house.

When you entered, Giselle was already sitting on the wicker chair in the lush garden that was attached to the house. “Girls, here you are. Jimin can you help me bring some snacks out?” Jimin didn't have to be told a second time and rushed to help the boy after sending you a flying wink. You approached Giselle and sat in the chair opposite her, to maintain some distance. It was the first time you had seen her like this. The dark hair that she always combined with clothes of the same shade was this time combined with a long white dress that made her almost ethereal; the glasses made her face prettier than the one she had always adorned only with heavy black makeup which yes suited her well but a lighter shade made it stand out even more. Maybe you found yourself staring at her too much because when your eyes met you saw a smirk of victory on the girl’s face.

“Are you admiring what you’ll never have?” “And what is this thing I’ll never have? Dignity?” “The chance to brag about how beautiful you are” “Oh, the princess of everyone’s bed spoke” “I don’t have sex with men” Giselle replied somewhat upset. “Oh, so all the things they say about you are false?” “My group of friends is made up of all gay men and one straight man” Concern for Jimin filled you for a moment and you stopped the conversation in progress. “Juyeon's not gay, right?” “As if your eyes can't see how he's hitting on your best friend, you dumbass.” "Here's all the snacks!" Your darkened and frowning faces turned abruptly towards the two newlyweds and then shouted "Shut up!" Jimin resignedly rolled her eyes.

The first half hour you and Giselle spent arguing over the theme of the PowerPoint presentation. “This is an old lady color” “This is a funeral color though Y/N!” "You love funeral colors!"

The next two hours were spent looking for information on the same topics which later turned out to be identical; cause for further argument. When Juyeon and Jimin finished their work, you were still in the first part of the project. Your best friend and the guy disappeared somewhere after two minutes; when you received a message from Jimin you found out that the two had gone to stock up on chips.

“So you hate me?” You never expected to see such a piercing look on Giselle’s face. “No, I find you annoying and everything they say around you about you seems to confirm it” “I already told you this is all fucking fake” The black-haired girl ran a hand through her hair and turned her gaze elsewhere. “People love to say everything that comes to their mind. I'm a lesbian, men don't interest me. After I refused to have sex with a guy I was paired up with for a group project, he went around telling people that I'm a terrible partner and that well… slutshaming and other not-so-nice things about me."

The silence that followed immediately afterward was extremely embarrassing for both of them. “I said a bunch of bullshit, I'm sorry. I always imagined you through gossip, even though I know that Jimin doesn’t think of you as a slacker and that Juyeon is your best friend” “Y/N” Giselle tried to butt in. “Listen Aeri, I’ll make it up to you. I don’t like you but I have to admit that despite the various arguments you’re a real looker and what you say sometimes makes me laugh so all in all, you’re not bad” Giselle laughed. “Oh my god, are these supposed to be an apology?” "My apologies" “You should make them better. No nice man would pursue such a lunatic." “I'm not interested in men. They're just accessories to me.”

Giselle only stopped laughing when you said that. “But the two boyfriends you had last year?” Without asking how she knew, you continued with your speech. “A Cover to keep my parents from realizing I’m a lesbian. Same old story. They were nice accessories at least”

The tension between the two of you was growing more and more. Giselle slowly approached you, first placing a hand on the floor where you were lying and then bringing a leg forward. “How long has it been since you kissed a woman, Y/N?” You gulped down. “How long has it been since you kissed a woman, Aeri?” Giselle was a millimeter from your lips, hand on your thigh, and hand next to yours. If only it hadn't been for the scream that Juyeon pulled open the door, something would have happened, Giselle quickly moved away and muttered “What an idiot he is” as if the house didn't belong to him to begin with.

“We’re back! Is everything okay or did you get into a fight?” A restrained, fake laugh came out of your mouth and so did the words that came out of it. “We were one step away from having ourselves by the hair” You couldn't describe the look Giselle gave you.

The next day at school, you noticed that Giselle’s desk was empty. Worried, even though you didn’t want to admit it, you asked Juyeon for the girl’s number. Juyeon couldn’t help but smile as you saved the number on your phone. You immediately texted Giselle, asking why she hadn’t come to school and threatening to break into her house through the window if she didn’t answer. To your surprise, Giselle responded a few minutes later with a raised middle finger emoji; to which you of course responded with another middle finger. The next message made you lose your mind. “Bitch, I'm waiting for you at my house. Don't break my door, please”.

As you walked towards Giselle's house, you wondered where this interest in such an annoying person had come from. Interest was a big word, but yesterday you were the one who almost threw yourself into the arms of a girl you felt like you had hated for a lifetime.

When you arrived in front of Giselle's house, you knocked so loudly that the one who looked out the window was the neighbor and not the interested girl. "Holy God, what a mess you make!" Giselle in pajamas and slippers opened the door and made you smile. “Cute pajamas” “Go shit”

You went up the stairs and arrived in the girl's room. The room, to your surprise, was pink wherever you turned to look at it. “Hello Kitty puked on it?” “Perhaps you mean My Melody” “Even the canopy bed, princess” Giselle lay down on the bed and waited for you to do the same. “Shall we finish the work?” “I’m in”

Compared to the day before, things seemed to be going better. It wasn’t just the arguments that kept the exchange of information going but also the moments where you both dedicated time to listening to each other’s opinions.

“Done! And fuck it all!” “Hopefully we get a good grade” "God Y/N who cares! It's already a miracle to have managed to finish something like this." You nodded to let the other person understand that for once you agreed on everything. You printed out the sheets with the part that each of you had to do for the presentation and then threw yourselves on the bed again, tired of everything.

“Do you find school that fun?” Giselle was the first to speak. “No, simply when I don't know what to do I start reading, reading, reading. At least that’s what Jimin says” “I can’t stand it.” “Maybe you can't stand the people who are there” “Yes, but I hate everything about that place. The desks, the air that makes me uglier, the men, the homework, and group studies" You thought a few more seconds before answering her and, taking a deep breath, you turned towards her. "I can make you change your mind" “You can try but I don't know how well it works” “There's me and Jimin in the class. Then we can study together and everything will seem fun!” “See… You like school” Giselle's face darkened. “I enjoy being with Jimin. There's also Juyeon! And well… I'm here." Giselle turned away and didn't speak to you anymore.

A day went by and Giselle never replied to your messages. That morning you were supposed to present the group project. Not only had she stopped responding to the messages you were sending her under the desk, but she was also late for the presentation. A terrible thought passes through your mind. Did she stay home? She knows that the teacher gives a failing grade when something like that happens.

Jimin and Juyeon brilliantly finished their presentation and the applause, luckily for you since you were supposed to present later, lasted for two minutes. “Y/N and Giselle are next. However, I see that one of the two is missing. I will have to give you a good-” The classroom door suddenly burst open and all the eyes of your classmates and yours moved from the teacher to the figure of Giselle, who noisily began with a “Teacher, Y/N and I are ready to present!” A small smile appeared on your face.

Fortunately, the presentation given by you and Giselle surprised the class and the teacher who seemed to have very low expectations. During the break, you grabbed Giselle by the arm and led her to a secluded space. It was she who spoke first. "Excuse" “Don't be sorry, strangely everything went well” A silly bit of tongue from Giselle made you grin. “It went better than expected, yes.” You nodded. That silence that now characterized your relationship was starting to be too heavy to bear. Giselle came close to your face. “Teach me what having fun at school means, you little bitch,” she began while doing nothing but staring at your lips. "I know a better way to have fun." It was your hand that brought your bodies together and united them. Within seconds, Giselle approached your lips and began to kiss you without fear of being seen. Your tongues and legs intertwined as the kiss became more wet and passionate. You were the first to break away from the kiss, leaving you breathless. “We're going a little too fast” “We're just reversing the lessons a little bit. I kissed you first so you can teach me all that bullshit about how great school is." “And what happens after I teach you everything you need to know about school?” The bell announced the end of the break. “Well, after that I can see if I trust you and if we can go further.” "So kiss, school, sex, and only if these three work can we be together?" A loud laugh escaped your lips and Giselle without answering began to head towards your classroom.

“You know Y/N, maybe my plan could work” “There’s never been a plan that I couldn’t make work” The look you exchanged sealed a long and lasting agreement between you.

[mariclerc]

Pretty like a flower | cl16

Summary: where some social media comments open up old insecurities in you.

Warnings: fluff, sad reader, reassuring Charles, social media hate.

Dating Charles is a totally fantastic experience, on one hand you love traveling the world with him and having little memories together, or just spend a quiet day at home away from your jobs. But at the same time, there are bad things, such as the lack of privacy because there are super nosy people who are not the fans, people that think they can take pictures of you every now and then and the fans themselves like to talk too much, especially about you...

The way you met Charles was the sweetest and cutest way of all, you were working at a local flower shop and he came in to get some flowers to take to his mom to decorate her hair salon — a pretty sweet gesture in your opinion, so between some babbling and shy glances at the handsome man, you helped him get the right flowers for his mother. And so the days went by, every week he went to the flower shop to get flowers for his mother and he always asked for help from the shy girl who spent her time making beautiful flower arrangements. You had no idea who he was, partly you did know who he was since Monaco is very small, but you only knew that he was a famous race car driver and that was it.

When you started dating everything was super good, normally you don't upload many things to social media since you like to keep everything private, you only uploaded some of your flower arrangements to your Instagram and other cute little things. Fans started comparing you to their ex-girlfriends, especially Alex since they had a massive break up last year, they said that you posted the same things as her on Instagram and that you were copying her, or they even said that you were soon going to do like her and become an influencer and that you only wanted him for the fame and money he could give you. And honestly, you don't think that way, you really love Charles with all your heart, he is someone so precious and wonderful to you, and you know that he loves you with all his heart.

Right now you are in your shared apartment alone, reading comments made on a gossip page about a paparazzi photo taken of you and Charles on the beach last weekend, the comments are mixed but there is one constant: all the comments are about how your body looks... Most people say: "aww, she looks so basic, Alex looked way better than her!", "I don't know what Charles saw in her, she's nothing special." "Look at her, she has no butt or boobies, she's just a board!" And the list of comments goes on and on.

“Not this again... Why do they always have to criticize what I wear or how I look? I'm just living my life with the man I love...” you sighed and you walked through the closet, looking at some of your clothes. “My favorite clothes doesn't even fit anymore, they all feel wrong.” you looked with watery eyes at your reflection in the mirror, you're wearing a mismatched lingerie, tugging your little tummy roll and small bust. “I know I'm not a model... But does everything really have to be picked apart?” you say as you look down at your short legs and big thighs with slight hair growth, even the most normal and natural thing in the world seems totally imperfect to you.

You were so focused on your inner monologue that you didn't hear that Charles has opened the door.

“Darling, I'm home! Where are you, mon cœur?” he says calling you out (my heart)

You called back with a shaky voice. “I-I'm in the bedroom...”

He enters the room and sees you crying in your mismatched lingerie, concern washing over his face. “Oh no. What's wrong, my love? Come here, talk to me.” he gathers you gently into his arms.

You sobbed into his chest. “I'm... I'm sorry Charlie, I know I'm being silly but I just feel so insecure about myself lately. All these comments talking about my body, and comparing me with one of your ex's, saying I'm not pretty enough to be with you.” you whispered with trembling voice. “Even my own clothes don't feel right on me anymore... I guess I started wondering if you only settled for me because of my boring looks and body.” you finished, emptying all your thoughts.

Charles held you while he gently caressed your hair, he knew that those comments were going to explode in you at some point, from the beginning you were always honest with him about your insecurities about yourself, something that perhaps was not so present in you before, but now — and thanks to the comments, has resurfaced again.

“Shh, don't say that stuff princess. You are the most beautiful girl in the world to me, inside and out... Those people don't know us or how much we care for each other, all that matters is how you see yourself, and how I see you.” he wipes one of your tears.

You looked up at him. “But... What do you see in me? I'm not sexy and thin like models or I don't have a perfect tan like your ex... I have small boobs, big and hairy thighs and I have a tummy...” you were going to continue, but he subtly stops you.

“Stop that talk right now. You are beautiful and sexy to me in every way, I love every single inch of your gorgeous body - your mesmerizing eyes, your cute little button nose, your adorable smile. Your tummy? Is where I like to put my hand and stroke its softness when we're sleeping or taking a nap, your boobs are perfect for me, as is every soft curve.” he smiled shyly while blushing. “You're my ideal of beauty and I'm the luckiest man alive because your heart chose me... And I'm so in love with you and all of those little things that make you so unique.”

You sniffle a bit, starting to feel a little bit better. “Really? You truly think I'm beautiful just the way I am?” you asked softly.

“Oh, you're more than beautiful! You're a fiery, intelligent, compassionate queen and I fall deeper in love with you every day. The judgements of strangers mean nothing when I have your love... You are as precious and delicate as a flower, you know, blooming and growing under my touch.” he kisses your forehead and you blushed so much thanks to his words. “So dry those silly tears, mon amour, and let me show you how much you turn me on just by being yourself.” he kisses you tenderly. (my love)

You feel his words washing over you, because he's right, you should feel good in your own body and no matter how much you say you don't look good or whatever, he doesn't care because he loves you whether you've changed your style or not, because he's totally in love with you.

You kiss him back softly while your hands rest gently on his chest. “I love you so much Charlie! Thank you for always making me feel like the most special girl.”

He smiles. “You are very special to me, my darling. Never forget your worth, okay?”

As Charles gazed at you with heartfelt adoration, you suddenly became conscious of your state of dress and you blushed.

“I, um... I'm not exactly matching or covered right now... sorry.” you mumbled shyly, crossing your arms over your chest.

Charles gently took your hands, uncrossing them so he could place tender kisses to your knuckles. “You have nothing to be self-conscious about, mon amour. Please don't feel shy with me.” you bite your lip, still hesitant. Chuckling softly, Charles hooked a finger under your chin to lift your gaze to his. “You could be wearing a trash bag and still be the most beautiful sight to me... But, since you're so worried right now...”

Reaching behind himself, he swiftly pulled his shirt over his head in one smooth motion. You gazed at him, momentarily distracted by his perfectly sculpted bare torso.

Charles winked playfully. “There we go, now we match. Feel better?” His boyish grin made you giggle, easing some of the tension.

“Much.” you whispered softly, poking his ribs. His breathless chuckle sent flutters through your spine.

He looks at your figure with adoration. “Pink is definitely your color, but you know how do you look way better?” he asked and you shake your head. “Wearing nothing at all...” he whispered and you blushed so much at his teasing.

Slowly, your shy insecurities began melting away under his tender and caring gaze.

Charles' hands found your waist, rubbing soothing circles over the skin. “You take my breath away every time I look at you, ma chérie. So soft, feminine, sexy and all mine.” (my darling)

Leaning in, he gently nuzzled your neck, trailing light kisses that had you sighing. “Please don't ever think you're not gorgeous, because I ache to worship every single inch of you.”

His husky words and touch ignited a longing deep within you. Threading your fingers through his hair, you pressed closer, relinquishing all shyness. Your eyes met, full of smoldering desire and promise of pleasurable distraction ahead.

Your lips met in a searing kiss as strong arms lifted you, carrying you to your shared bed where all that mattered was exploring each other in a sweet and gentle intimacy. Confident in his adoration, nothing could dim your light when you're in his loving embrace.

***

A few days had passed since Charles lovingly boosted your confidence and you were starting to feel more comfortable in your own skin again as you two planned to have a relaxing Saturday at home.

That afternoon, you tidied up around the apartment while clad in just mismatched lingerie and one of Charles' oversized shirts while he was doing some errands and buying some groceries. Lost in your house tasks, you hasn't heard the front door open.

“Darling, I'm ba-” Charles started to call out before stopping short at the sight before him, you froze as well, your face flushing under his admiring gaze. His eyes slowly roamed your figure, heated with desire and appreciation for you. “Oh, mon dieu, you take my breath away, baby.” he uttered softly. (my god)

Striding over, Charles pinned you gently against the counter with his taller form and you gazed up at him shyly through your lashes. “H-Hello...” you say softly.

Charles caressed your cheek smoothly, smiling down at you with heartstopping tenderness.

“Look at you petite fleur, so radiantly beautiful in just this... I feel like the luckiest man alive.” he smiles and leans in, he began feathering kisses along your neck that had you melting. “I knew that wicked outfit served another purpose beyond laundry day.” you giggled. (little flower)

His words, coupled with how reverently his hands roamed your curves, sent desire pooling low. All traces of shyness evaporated under his loving worship.

“How do you do that?” you breathed, tangling your fingers in his hair to hold him close. “You know... Make me feel like the most special woman alive?”

Charles met your eyes intensely. “Because to me, that is what you are - my queen, my everything. And I will spend every day showing you just how much you mean to me.”

Pulling you flush against him, you two kissed deeply and slowly, savoring each sensation. In his passionate embrace, you knew no other place you belonged more than by his side, in the spotlight of his beautiful devotion.

Charles' tender words and loving gaze never failed to make you blush like a schoolgirl. You shyly ducked your head against his chest, overwhelmed by the passion and devotion in his eyes.

“You always say the nicest things.” you mumbled shyly, playing with the hem of his shirt. His affection still caught you off guard at times, even after all this time together.

Charles lifted your chin, thumbs gently brushing over your flushed cheeks. “And I mean every single little word, ma chérie.” (my darling)

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a sweet kiss that had you melting. Pulling back slightly, your foreheads remained pressed together as Charles simply gazed at you with endless tenderness.

“How is it that after all this time, you continue to take my breath away?” he breathed, caressing your cheek softly.

You just shrugged, embarrassed. “I don't know, I'm just me...”

“Exactly!” Charles smiled. “You're you - compassionate, beautiful, sweet, and so strong. I fall more in love with you every second of every day... You deserve to see yourself the way I see you.”

His honeyed words had you fighting back happy tears. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you clinged to Charles in a tight embrace, overwhelmed by the depths of his love and care.

He held you just as close, gently rubbing your back and peppering your hair with tender kisses. “I love you so much, mon coeur. Never forget how amazing and cherished you are to me.” (my heart)

Suddenly you pulled him close to you again, you kissed him languidly, pouring every ounce of gratitude and affection into the intimate gesture.

Charles responded in kind, holding you reverently against his body. Lost in each other, you two became so enraptured that the rest of the world seemed to fade away.

All too soon, oxygen became a necessity. Breathless and flushed, you rested your foreheads together, smiling softly at one another.

You whispered. “I could stay like this forever in your arms.” you sighed contentedly and Charles nuzzled your cheek sweetly.

He smiled. “Well, then let us make a life filled with these kinds of moments, mon bébé.” he declared with quiet conviction. (my baby)

Your breath caught at the promise in his tone. Gazing deep into his eyes, you saw your future stretching ahead - a future of partnership, passion and being cherished each and every day by this beautiful soul.

Overcome, you pulled him once again into an embrace, clinging tightly as happy tears welled. In that perfect moment, all felt right in your own world wrapped in love's sheltering wings.

In the solace and security of his embrace, he slowly but surely continued renewing your self esteem each and every day. You truly feel like the luckiest girl to receive such devoted affection from your soulmate.

[nuwanda-no-wonder]

I haven't seen anyone talk about it, or maybe someone noticed but didn't said anything...

Neil and Charlie are connected, not only by the bonds of friendship but also by their shared symbolism of “death”, which is shown at the very end of the movie/book when their seats were empty. They are both key characters and as those who, despite their differences, are very similar.

Let's start with Neil. We all know that Neil is the one who started the dead poets society in 1959, he is the speaker and the leader of the group, as if leading the boys. He is the first to find the album with Keating's photo in it, the first to learn what the society is (yeah boys were near him), the first to read the official opening speech and assign roles to everyone. Who will read and who won’t. He acts as a confident person, his actions are based on a new feeling and finding freedom from the grip of his father. Everyone noticed how he looked at Keating when he gave his famous speech that every person in this fandom knows?

Yes, you can't help but notice how his eyes shine with hope, that he like a prisoner, will free himself from the shackles and escape from the clutches of his father. By the way, about his dad.

This man plays a very important role in Neil's life, as he does in his, albeit in the most disgusting way. His father sees himself in him only in his youth, he wants to achieve what he could not in the past. He uses Neil to turn back the time and become an ideal version of himself without caring what Neil thinks. Most likely, Mr. Perry was an unsuccessful person and perhaps he did not succeed in many things, proving this with the following phrases: "I sacrificed so much for you to be here" and "you have opportunities that I don’t had” He kind of puts pressure on Neil shoulders to give him false motivation to do things as he said, setting himself as an example, like... if you don’t do as I say, then the worst will happen to you, because I know better than you and I have lived longer than you. His father makes his son a submissive and obedient boy who is obliged to do and act as he is told, simply because he has no choice, because he is inexperienced and "impressionable" in the opinion of his father and he must definitely listen to the one who knows better in order to avoid the worst outcome. Just lower your head and show obedience like everyone else.

By the way, it is interesting that in the book the first description of Neil, and the first words about his appearance sound like this: "The breast pocket of his Welton blazer was covered with a huge cluster of achievement pins." (page 5, ch.1) Ironic, right? Now try to close your eyes and imagine the same student, without imagining Neil. What impression will you have of him? Right.. smart, successful with a brilliant future. This is what people who don’t know Neil see. He has become someone who is held up as an example. A diligent student and an example of behavior. Even the fact that in the book he wears a pillar with the inscription "excellence" as if hanging a label of idealism and perfection on himself. That is why they gave him this sign, so that he would carry it, introducing himself as the personification of that very perfection that teachers want to have in their students. But is that what he needs? Neil did not know what he wanted, he did not allow himself to go beyond what was permitted, always silently and following the rules. Afraid of getting burned like a moth over a fire. He was suppressed by his father, all the time his desires and dreams were rejected and not accepted, because there is a coordinate system and you cannot move against it. I can even assume that his father pressured him if his academic results did not satisfy him, from which Neil tried to prove that he could do better, because he wants his father to be proud of him and love him for being a good son, perhaps Mr. Perry could punish Neil for disobedience, from which the boy began to fear his father like a nightmare. Remember the scene when his father entered the room at the very beginning of the movie after the ceremony? Neil's behavior changed from before to after. With his friends he was happy, self-confident and the life of the party, but when his father showed up on the doorstep all of these traits were washed away and Neil showed his fear and insecurity.

So he hid himself, his dreams, ambitions and desires including emotions in front of his father. Several times in the book, (the movie didn’t showed it) Neil had the outbursts and slightly hysterical release of his emotions he was holding when his father was around. “Neil held the achievement pin in his hand as he spoke. “The bastard!” he shouted suddenly, jabbing his thumb with the metal point of the pin and drawing blood. Todd winced, but Neil just stared at the blood intently. He pulled the pin out and hurled it against the wall.” (Page 19, Chap3)

“Mr. Perry turned and stalked out. Neil stood still for a long time, then, walking to his desk, he started pounding on it, harder and harder until his fists went numb and tears began rolling down his cheeks.” (Page 119, chap11) Neil isn’t an emotionally stable person because his emotions only show when his father is not around. He is mentally weak because he is afraid to speak his mind around someone who will not listen to him. This is important and worth remembering because Neil has no voice around his father, so he did not tell him what he wanted, so he kept silent because he understood and built a mental reflex that his father's stubborn nature would still make him do what Neil does not want. He already knows what his father will say. Rejection. This is his weak point. He is afraid of rejection and does not want to hear it again, because he has heard it so many times ... over and over again. This Neil is very different from the confident guy he shows himself to be in society.

he did not share his feelings/thoughts with anyone, because he most likely not had close friends except Charlie. Because His entire life was planned and controlled by his authoritarian father, from A to Z. His dad would’ve probably not be happy about his son being friends with the “who the hell knows”.

That's why when he heard Keating's words about enjoying the moment, living here and now while this moment is here because one day it won't be. Carpe diem my friend. You need to look at things in the different way and not be afraid of what others think because what matters is what you think. These words entered Neil's thoughts as a basis for changing his situation, to free himself from the shackles and become who he always wanted. Because if not, this moment will never come. He began to think differently and began to go towards his dream that he wanted to acquire so much. Neil was slowly drowning in his ideal world, living freely and hopelessly, but he misunderstood Keating's words, because he had to change his idea of ​​the world and not himself. Neil did not understand that you cannot change the situation you are in, you can only change your idea and vision of it. He wanted to take control, but he forgot that sucking out the bone marrow, you need to do it so as not to choke on the bone. It is interesting that he was the first to come and recreate the Dead poets society and the first to leave, thus killing this society.

His death has a huge influence on the plot as well as on the symbolism itself, because if you look closely, in the book he dies with his crown of flowers as if killing his personality "Puck" through which he embodied the archetype of the deceiver (his father’s deceiver), challenging the established standards of behaviour. The second one is a reference to Jesus that many talk about. So, if you think about it, the crown of branches that he wore is very similar to the one that Jesus had. At first, he looks up, supposedly into the sky, in search of the meaning of life and pondering his decision. He puts on the crown, proclaiming himself his own liberator, just as Jesus was in Christian culture.

He didn't want to depend on his father or the rotten system anymore, Neil thought he would make his own decision outside of his father's wishes. After all, if there is no freedom in life itself, then why should he live?

Then, he lowers his head as if accepting his fate and knowing that he has chosen the right path for himself.

Neil showed obedience to himself and not to someone else which made him one step freer before he got freedom completely. He, like Jesus, accepted himself as a sacrifice in the face of freedom intending to be free even if not for others then for himself. Therefore, it was his own "crucifixion".

It is interesting that he lowers his head just like the boy from that very wall painting.

Okay, but then how does he relate to Charlie? It's simple, Charlie isn't always himself either, and unlike Neil's hidden symbolism, he directly proclaims himself to be another person, namely "Nuwanda". He abandons his boring, past self by forgetting who he was through self-destruction. "I have an announcement. In keeping with the spirit of passionate experimentation of the Dead Poets, I'm giving up the name Charles Dalton. From now on, call me 'Nuwanda.'" (page 89, chap9) In the same way, he added more nuances to his personality, such as his famous phrase "getting red" and when he painted the Indian symbol of virility on his torso supposedly giving himself confidence through the symbol's underlying meaning, which is anchored in the Indian goddess Shiva-Lingam which signifies masculinity, virility and association with fertility due to its sexual significance.

The same goes for the symbols he drew on his cheek, what's interesting is that in the movie he drew it with lipstick using red again, which usually symbolizes power, passion and life, this colour is used to attract attention. But in the book... he literally scrapes dirt off the wall to draw this symbol on his cheek. (What a cheerful boy fr)

Charlie is a time bomb. He constantly has ideas in his head, at first it may seem empty but there really is a lot of things, plus this “dish” is also seasoned with the guy's self-confidence and huge ego. This is proven by the fact that Charlie literally claimed the cave when he entered it and then used it to bring girls, without worrying about the opinions of others. He kind of stands as an example of the opposite of the Welton school value system, and encourages boys not to be afraid to be more confident. In the film, he was the first to support Neil in the idea of ​​creating a club, standing on his side, and also defending him after Cameron's betrayal at the very end, knowing that he is risking his education in Welton, but he is not afraid to take on such responsibility ... well, because why should he be afraid? He already has a future full of money, knowing that his father will force him to work with his business. By the way, about his father.

Unlike Neil, his relationship with his father is controversial and he can fight back with the confidence that he will be forgiven. In the film, his parents are shown in the background.

And in the book we only know his mother. I can assume that Charlie is a child from a rich family who lives as an accessory in the hands of his parents. He, like Neil, is the "pride" of his parents and should be an example, only Charlie does not want to follow the coordinate system and enter it instead he moves against it. Like Neil at the end of his path.

We know that Rebellion is already embedded in any ideology at the time of its creation, and rebels only personify rebellion and do not bring it to the established system of values. After all, there will always be those who are against the established system, moving in the opposite direction and trying to find other conclusions, other ideas that will definitely suit a certain type.

Charlie could become a rebel for two reasons, the first: the search for attention. Unlike the hyper-care of Neil's father over his son, his father could be so bogged down in work that he forgot about his own son, perhaps not even his beloved, because then the marriage would be of convenience. His parents did not give him enough attention, pushing him away, rejecting him. He wanted to be noticed by them so that they would give him love, so he tried to achieve it in every possible way and it became a habit. Or the second option: He was tired of living a pretense. Straightforwardness is always a way out when it’s difficult to explain. Just be simple and do not bother to be complex, so the fear of making a mistake disappears. So Charlie did, because as far back as he could remember, he hated being told how he should behave, how he should talk to guests, how he should smile, how he should take utensils for food, and so on. Charlie was tired of seeing people from high society smiling at each other with such hypocrisy, as if a second ago they had not been in deep judgmental discussion. The world of big business disgusted Charlie, because those people were too worried about how they looked in front of others and they ran after status. Charlie was a prisoner of this every day and he didn't want to be like the others, he wanted to create something of his own in his personality, something that the others didn't have and something that would distinguish them from him, or him from them. So he chose the easy way - rebellion. So Keating's words meant something to him in the sense that he would enjoy the moment of rebelling against the school's rules and building his own system. Charlie could relate to his own approaching "death" if life at Welton was not symbolic but real. That is, his expulsion is an actual death. It could be similar to the phrase that Carpe diem oppose - Memento Mori. Carpe diem, in simple terms, says that death is inevitable, but it is unknown when it will come, and therefore it should not be feared, but instead enjoy the moment, which is what Keating taught his students, but there is also memento mori, which says that death is inevitable, but the moment of its onset can be delayed by behaving, so to speak, you should live “correctly” and act rationally for the benefit of your own life. In other words, memento mori means that everything is in your hands and when you die is determined by how you live. And Carpe diem is about the opposite, that nothing depends on you. And therefore you can and should take everything from life here and now. These two terms are closely related to the understanding of Keating's lessons, so each DPS boy had his own end. Tragic or partly happy. Knox and Todd understood that you can't change this system, but you can change your attitude towards it by finding beauty in things and avoiding death, but Neil and Charlie didn't understand him, wanting to change system and putting their lives on the line, so both of their seats are empty at the end.

If you think about it... Charlie is Neil's desire for suicide. After all, he too is moving towards self-destruction by excluding himself from the system directly through death, while Charlie does it indirectly by going through exclusion.

[thisismeracing]

Can I please request a charles dating a Greek girl *like the Korean girl you did*???👉🏻👈🏻🥹🥹🥹🥺🥺

Hi, love!!! of course <3 here you go! sorry for taking forever, I was off for a bit and just got back hihih

Here's the Charles version - I'm so sorry I read Mick idk why, but do not fear for Millie will make justice (even if she was the wrong one in the first place lol).

MICK DATING A GREEK GIRL | MS47

Warnings: mentions of food; tooth-rotting fluff; mentions of family members; not proofread.

A/n: Just a quick reminder that there are many shades, experiences, and backgrounds when it comes to greeks and their culture, what I am writing does not resume everything, but rather brings a piece of it to the table. <3

▸ my masterlist | my taglist | patreon guide ▸ support my writing by reblogging, leaving a comment (don’t  forget to follow me if you like the piece), or buying me a coffee

Mick already knows Greece, but when you two start dating he's in for a whole new adventure aka getting familiar with culture, sayings, and the idiom;

He becomes obsessed with Greek cuisine. To him, everything is better when it's Greek - greek rice, greek break, greek spaghetti, and the latter let it slip during an interview, and you bet Ferrari fans we're mad for a week or so;

He would encourage you guys to visit the less tourist-centered cities and islands, instead suggesting places where you grew up or had stories to tell;

Mick would make sure to always have his camera on him and register random photos of you - he has a 'Greek girl <3' folder that consists mostly of pictures of you;

Randomly learned to introduce himself in Greek, but got his age wrong and it didn't matter how many times you tried to correct him, he would always forget and say it wrong again, so you just accepted that he was one hundred five instead of twenty-five when in Greece;

Though Mick loved the homey cities, he also loved the famous islands and whenever you traveled there at least one weekend would be spent in one of those. Athenas, Santorini, Corfu, Mykonos, Crete, Zakynthos, Ithaca, you name it, he will pack his bags at the speed of light and be ready to tag along;

He would watch movies that were ambient in Greece and ask you if things were accurate. He looved Mamma Mia and Greek Wedding;

Totally hints that he wants to have a greek wedding after you attend one together; The plates breaking? The common cup? the wedding face? He watched it all in awe;

Now when it comes to meeting the family Mick is nervous. He wants to make everything right so he will try to at least introduce himself in Greek -and he'll most likely get nervous again and say he's one hundred-five years lol it becomes a family thing, and he feels at home around your folks;

Same to you and his family that will definitely put Greece on their next vacay destination just to spend some quality family time with everyone.

Overall Mick is just super curious and open to learning about you and your culture, and will go around talking about how cool things are in Greece because he's this type of person. He's obsessed with your country, but he's even more obsessed with you.

────── ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: I hope you guys liked it! Let me know your thoughts, it means a lot to me <3 *mwah*

If you liked this piece and want early access to new ones and exclusive access to others, subscribe to my patreon!💘  ▸ check my main masterlist | patreon guide and my taglist.

©thisismeracing ― do not copy, steal, or translate my work; do not repost on a different media platform.

[blushweddinggowns]

Part 2

He has no right to be here.

He knows that.

He does.

Eddie watches as people pile into the church, all of them dressed to the nines. It's a Harrington affair through and through, and the sight of all these people that he knows Steve hates makes him feel sicker than he already is.

If he wasn't on the edge of crying he would have laughed at himself, like he had any right to judge anyone here. He's the one who dumped Steve. Perfect, wonderful, lovely Steve who just needed a few more years. He just needed to make sure the kids were safe until they graduated. But Eddie couldn't do it. He needed to leave, and Steve needed to stay.

So he ended it. Just like that. He ended it.

He hasn't seen him for three years. By all appearances, it was a good choice, the best thing he could have done for himself. Because against all fucking odds Eddie Munson ends up as a success. He's a star, a famous musician discovered in a shitty little bar. He somehow managed to actually live the dream he used to fantasize about.

He lives it up. He parties, he drinks, he fucks, he spends his early twenties being young and dumb like he always wanted.

And it's horrible. It's so horrible that it becomes hilarious to him. Because he knows why it's so bad. Of course he knows. But it's better this way, really. Because Steve deserved better than him anyway. He deserved someone he didn't run away, full of flimsy excuses of wanting to be out of the shitty town that made him. When the truth was he was scared. He was terrified about how much he loved him. Because what was he going to do when the day came when Steve realized he could do better?

Eddie wouldn't have been able to surivie it. So he left instead. Like the coward he was. He left so he could be miserable and famous but at least Steve could finally find someone who deserved him.

So it really was all for the best. That's what he tells himself, because if he doesn't he'd go insane wondering about what could have been. He has himself convinced that he made the right choice. Maybe not for himself, but at least for Steve.

He doesn't realize how bullshit all of that was until Dustin lets it slip. They're doing the normal routine. Dustin visits, Eddie spoils the shit out of him, and on the last day he asks about Steve. He always tries to keep it casual. Tries to never let his desperation to know what's happening shine through. But it always does, bad enough that Dustin can't help the pity in his eyes when he tells him.

Steve's getting married.

Eddie wasn't aware just how much words could hurt him until that moment. He'd been called every bad name under the sun, a queer, a freak, a fag, you name it and it's been said. But this is the first time someone else's words make him feel like he's dying.

He wasn't invited to the wedding. Why would he be? But he still found it. Because he's a glutton for self-punishment. He hadn't seen Steve for three fucking years, and he chooses to wait till his wedding day?

But it's too late for regret, he's already here. His eyes keep scanning the room, just waiting for him to show up. He probably looks like a creep, dressed in all black and fucking sunglasses, sitting right by the door. He's basically in a fucking disguise, mostly to stop Robin from finding him and kicking his ass.

Speaking of, his eyes widen at the sight of her. She's slipping out of a door to the side, quickly wiping at her eyes before joining the crowd of people. His eyes drift back to the door.

Eddie's on his feet before he knows what he's doing. It's stupid, maybe the stupidest thing he's ever done, but where Robin is, Steve is sure to follow.

And he's right. It leads to a small dressing room. And there he is. Just like that Eddie's in front of the only man he'll ever love. Or at least, behind him. They were alone, and Steve hadn't even noticed him yet, too busy adjusting his hair in the mirror.

He still has time to leave. Besides, he didn't come here to ruin everything. He didn't, really.

But he doesn't turn around. Instead, Eddie locks the door behind him. He takes off his stupid sunglasses and clears his throat to speak, but is immediately rendered speechless when Steve turns to look at him.

He's just as gorgeous as he remembered.

His eyes widened at the sight of him, mouth opening and closing like he can't quite believe what he's seeing. Why would he? Eddie never reached out. He ignored the times that Steve did, always too ashamed of himself to face his own mistakes.

Eddie always expected Steve to lash out when he saw him, if he saw him. Lord knows he deserved it. But he doesn't. He just looks...sad. And those basset hound eyes are almost enough to bring Eddie to tears himself.

"What are you doing here?" Steve asked, voice quiet.

Eddie hadn't actually prepared anything to say. His plan was to watch the love of his life marry someone else than drink himself into a stupor at his hotel. He...he hadn't expected to end up here. But there are a million things he wants to say to him.

I'm here to tell you I'm sorry. I'm sorry I was a coward. I'm sorry I wasn't good enough and I made it your problem. I haven't stopped thinking about you. Ever. There hasn't been a day that goes by when I don't regret leaving. And I thought, maybe, just maybe if I saw you move on with my own eyes I could let you go.

But none of that is what comes out of his mouth.

"Run away with me."

If Steve didn't look shocked to see him before he sure did now, "W-What?"

"Run away with me," He repeats. Because it's what he wants. It's what he needs. It's been three years of hell without him and Eddie can't do it anymore. He can't.

He hates that he's the cause of the tears springing up in Steve's eyes, but he can't take it back. He won't.

Steve looks away, eyes trained on the floor, "You can't do this to me Eddie. You can't."

But he is.

Eddie's made his choice. He was a fool to think he was capable of coming here without trying to steal him away. Of course this is where he'd end up. And he'll say anything to get him back. He doesn't care that he's too late. He doesn't care that this whole thing makes him a bigger piece of shit than he already was.

He'll be underhanded, he'll be dirty, he'll do anything to get Steve to leave with him, he doesn't fucking care. Because Steve Harrington is not going to get married today.

He waltzes right up to him. He grabs his chin and forces him to meet his eyes. He probably looks crazy, he feels crazy, "You don't love her like you love me."

He's never met her. He doesn't need to. The way Steve freezes up is all he needs to know that he's right.

He doesn't deny it, but he deflects, "Why are you doing this? You left me. Did you forget that part? I didn't end it. You did! A-And now what? We're just going to ride off into the sunset together? Like you weren't the one to just cut me out of your life-"

"Yes," Eddie interrupts. He feels calm, eerily so as he speaks, "We're riding off into the sunset together. Even though I don't deserve it. I never deserved you. And I was so fucking scared of when you would realize that. I let it eat away at me. So I left. Before you could do it to me. And I was wrong."

"Stop," Steve tries to step back, but Eddie won't let him. He wraps an arm around his waist and pulls him close.

He can't stop talking, even if he wanted to, "I was so wrong Steve. And I've been miserable ever since. Because I couldn't stop thinking about you. I'll never stop thinking about you. Even if you tell me to go to hell and get hitched I'll just wait for a divorce. Because you are the only one for me. And it took me too long to say that out loud. And I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry Stevie."

Steve weakly tried to push him away, but his heart wasn't in it, "Please stop."

But he can't, "I love you."

Steve's eyes are closed, a futile attempt to keep the tears at bay, but his voice comes out strong, "Eddie, I-I can't do this again. I can't. If you left me again I...I just can't."

Eddie can't help but wipe a few of the tears away for him, "Angel, look at me."

He waits for Steve to open his eyes. He looks so fucking beautiful that it hurts, especially since this may really be the last time he sees him again.

But he has one more trick up his sleeve, "Tell me you're not mine and I'll leave."

"W-what?"

"Tell me you're not mine. Say the words out loud and I'll let you go."

Steve stares at him. He's mad, beyond pissed that Eddie has the audacity to throw that in his face, but he's desperate. It was the last thing he said to him, murmured through the driver's side window of the van, seconds before he drove away.

I'm still yours, even if you don't want me anymore.

Eddie had cried the entire ride there after hearing that. And then a few days after for good measure. And here he is, completely ruthless at what he's willing to pull out, "You're mine Steve. You know you're mine."

It's such a fucked up thing to say, but it's true. But it's not the whole truth, "And I'm yours. I've always been yours. Tell me that's not true and I'll leave."

But Steve can't. He can't do it, just like Eddie had known he wouldn't. But what he hadn't expected was for him to surge up and kiss him.

It feels like he fell in love all over again, just from one simple kiss. Because it felt like magic was real and it decided to take on the form of Steve Harrington's lips. It was everything he had missed. Everything he had dreamed about. Eddie tangled a hand into his hair, helpless to do anything but kiss him back, harder and deeper. He wanted to be burned into Steve's memory for all eternity. He wanted him to always remember the moment that they came back to each other.

Because that's what this is. Eddie's certain, Steve was his, and he would never let him go again.

They only stop when there is a knock at the door, a muffled question asked that they can't hear over the sounds of their own breathing. It's enough to have them pulling away from each other, but they ignore it nonetheless.

Steve searches his face, one last test. Eddie can only guess how he looks right now, probably just as desperate and terribly hopeful as he felt. Whatever he's looking for, he finds it eventually.

Steve sighs, glancing toward the back of the room, "There's a window we can probably fit through. Because I'm sure as hell not going out there."

Now it's Eddie's turn to cry. Despite all of his confidence, the certainty that they were supposed to be together, he hadn't really expected it to work. But here they were, giggling with each other as they scurried out of a first-floor window, making a run for Eddie's car.

Eddie can't help but kiss him again before they get in, muttering against his mouth, "I love you so fucking much Stevie. I'm not going to fuck this up again. You won't regret it, I'll spend the rest of my life making sure you don't."

Steve grinned into the kiss, "You better."

There was still so much to talk about. Too much. And they'll fight and they'll scream and everything will get worse before it gets better. And Eddie's so fucking grateful to get the chance.

And for the first time in three years, he feels alive again.

[foreignjaykay]

company (a jungkook fic)

part two - "better late than never, right?"

company - a jungkook fic

can we keep each other company?

their workplace was chaos, but jungkook made it fun. their camaraderie was effortless—until he decided to leave. no big deal. people quit all the time. so why does it feel like everything is about to change?

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: r18+ (angst, fluff) minors do not interact!

chapter warnings/misc: workplace!au, coworkers!au, event planner!jk, event planner!oc, jk is not famous, angst, fluff, sad, crack, event planner!mingyu, bts in event planning company, unserious friend group, they are so silly and unserious, , ANGST, IDIOTS both of them, OBLIVIOUSNESS LMAO, yeah you might feel like screaming at the screen i know, i know

notes: hello everyone!!! sorry for the delay. here you go with part 2, i really like this one! things will only get more interesting as we progress further -evil laugh- no but seriously this whole fic is just like justin bieber's believe album. heard that while writing this part lol. we also meet a lot of new characters who are so dear to me! anywho, hope you enjoy this one <3

also here is company!jk’s visual vibe

moodboard • playlist • series masterlist

The moment you finished the texts that morning, you knew the office was going to be a whirlwind of chaos. And you were right.

As soon as you punched into the system, and opened the door, you could already hear laughter coming from the cafeteria.

Oh brother!

The 'Survivors' gang was already huddled around a table, with Jungkook right in the center, laughter radiating from him like sunlight. His eyes lit up the second they met yours, and before you could even think about slipping away, Mingyu—Gyu, as you fondly called him—beckoned you over.

“_______! Get over here!” he grinned.

You smiled lightly, already dreading what was going to happen however you nodded your head, and made your way to them anyway.

As you join them, a familiar warmth settles over you. Around the table were all the familiar faces who had become your second family: Mingyu and Shane from CS team just like Jungkook and you, Yuna, Dae, So-hee, Jimin, and Taehyung from design, Namjoon and Jin from production, Hobi and Yoongi from accounts, and Iseul from the same team. Each one of them held a special place in your heart, but after Jungkook, it was Mingyu and Yuna you were closest to.

The conversation buzzed with excitement, actually no, shock, as everyone bombarded Jungkook with questions about his new job, his plans, and his time left at the office. 

“No cause what the fuck were you saying this morning?” Yuna asked, remembering the conversation from earlier this morning. 

“Are you really resigning, JK?” Hobi asked. Just like you, they all couldn't believe it. 

Jungkook nodded with a wistful smile, the corners of his lips curve upwards slightly, but his eyes conveyed a hint of sadness, suggesting a mix of melancholy and acceptance.

So,” So-hee started, leaning back in her chair. “You wanna explain?”

Jungkook chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean… yeah. It’s happening.”

“Where are you even going?” Namjoon asked, arms crossed. “You never said anything about leaving.”

Jungkook exhaled, his fingers tapping against the table. “I got an offer to work on live concerts. Big ones. A-list musicians, full production scale, global tours. It’s what I’ve always wanted to do.”

Your chest tightened. You already knew this, but hearing him say it out loud made it real.

“You and _____ always talked about this,” Jimin murmured. You glanced at Jungkook as soon as you heard that and when you looked at him, you saw his eyes flickering to yours. An emotion you couldn’t describe passing briefly through his features.

“Yeah,” he said, softer now. “We did.” 

You noticed both Yuna and Mingyu glancing at you, and you knew exactly why. Yuna specifically was going to ask you about this later, and you mentally braced yourself for the impending interrogation.

“So you’re leaving because you finally got your dream job,” Yoongil summarized.

Jungkook nodded. “I didn’t want to do these luxury brand launches forever. The dinners, the red carpets… it’s cool, but it’s not my thing. Concerts? That’s different.”

“Shit, man.” Taehyung whistled. “I mean, I’m happy for you, but this sucks.”

“Who’s gonna get roasted in the GC now?” Shane joked, nudging Jungkook.

Jungkook laughed. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll still be in the GC. I’ll be haunting you all from afar.”

Shane, Mingyu and you already knew. God, you still couldn't believe this news.

He was leaving.

You know it wasn’t supposed to be this dramatic but why did it feel so heavy?

You broke from your thoughts when your phone buzzed with calls and dozens of messages. 

“Guys, I gotta go,” you interrupted when you saw Jungkook animatedly describe his upcoming journey, holding up your phone. “Already getting calls.”

Jungkook’s eyes flicked to your phone and then back to you. “Oh, by the way,” he said casually, but his voice held that familiar teasing lilt, “Natasha asked me to shadow you for the Johnnie Walker Blue Label dinner tomorrow.”

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at your lips despite the sudden pang in your chest.

“Maybe this could be our last adventure?” he said looking at you, voice dipping a little. “Gotta make the most of my final days, right?” He added. 

You could feel the rest of their eyes on you.

Your heart clenched when he said that, but sarcasm was your armor. “Jungkook, you leave in a month. We still have Cartier coming up.”

He chuckled, the sound effortlessly charming. “Oh yeah.”

And for a second—just a fraction of a second—you hesitated, watching him.

And he watched you back.

But the moment passed, and you rolled your eyes. “Drama queen.”

His laughter, carefree yet tinged with something unspoken, echoed through the cafeteria. Around you, the rest of the group exchanged glances, picking up on the subtle awkwardness in the air. It was brief, fleeting, but undeniable.

And then you were gone, walking away with your phone glued to your ear, pretending everything was perfectly fine.

The cafeteria slowly emptied after the morning chaos. You had already left, phone pressed to her ear as she dove headfirst into calls for the Johnnie Walker event. One by one, the rest of the ‘Survivors’ gang filtered out, leaving only Jungkook and Namjoon seated at the corner table.

Jungkook sat silently, fingers tracing the rim of his coffee cup, eyes lost in thought.

“Thinking hard for someone who’s got a dream job lined up,” Namjoon teased gently, breaking the silence.

Jungkook blinked, pulled from his daze. “Huh? Oh... yeah. Just... a lot on my mind.”

Namjoon chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Right. ‘A lot.’ Or maybe... someone?”

Jungkook’s brows furrowed, then softened as he followed Namjoon’s gaze. Across the glass partition, you paced back and forth, phone glued to your ear, animatedly sorting out last-minute details.

You have always been like this. Dismissive. Untouchable. And yet, here Jungkook was, wishing you’d just–

Namjoon’s question broke Jungkook’s train of thought when he asked, “You gonna miss her?”

Jungkook’s eyes widened slightly, the question catching him off guard. He opened his mouth, then closed it, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. “Yeah... of course. She’s my best friend here. And... well... my saviour.”

He chuckled softly, pulling out his phone and flashing the contact name — ‘Saviour.’

Namjoon observed him for a moment, the corner of his mouth lifting into a knowing smile. He didn’t say much, but the silence between them felt weighty, charged with unspoken understanding.

Jungkook glanced at him, confused. “What?”

Namjoon shook his head with a small laugh. “Nothing, man.”

Jungkook, oblivious, ran a hand through his hair and stood up. “I should get back to work.”

“Yeah,” Namjoon replied, eyes still watching you through the glass. “You should.”

As Jungkook walked away, Namjoon sat back, sipping his coffee, a quiet smirk playing on his lips.

You sat alone in the bustling cafeteria, the clatter of trays and distant murmurs barely registering in your mind. December’s madness gripped the office, with Natasha’s vacation leaving the team drowning in work. Even Jake Peralta’s comedic chaos on your phone screen couldn’t compete with the storm of thoughts in your head. And that show single handedly was there for you after your 5473829018393th break up with San.

Oh San.

You didn't like thinking about him. At all.

You were glad you were not in that mess of a relationship anymore. So toxic. The constant lying, manipulation and chea-

Oh no. You are not thinking about that.

It had been 2 years since you were really with someone. Enough time to heal, right?  Funny to think that after  you broke up with San, you  got the job here and met Jungkook and the rest of the gang. Work had also consumed you then and still does. It helped distract you from the pain you felt then.

You were glad you did.

Met them, you mean.

Your fingers mindlessly pushed your food around as you stared at nothing in particular. Jungkook’s words from the morning replayed like a broken record in your head. The brightness in his eyes, the laughter, the ache that tugged at your heartstrings for reasons you couldn’t pinpoint.

It’s just a job. People leave all the time. Shane, Mingyu, Yuna, and the rest of them will still be here. Nothing’s changing. 

The weight in your chest whispered otherwise.

Your phone buzzed, pulling you from the spiral.

yuna (work) [2:05 pm]: babe where are you?

you [2:05 pm]: in the cafeteria. whats up?

yuna (work) [2:06 pm]: we need to talk!

You sighed. Here we go. 

you [2:06 pm]: about?

yuna (work) [2:07 pm]: meet me at conference room #2 once you are done with lunch?

you [2:07 pm]: sure

yuna (work) [2:07 pm]: see ya!

You were already bracing yourself.

After lunch, you found herself pacing outside the conference room before finally pushing the door open.

Yuna sat cross-legged on the table, her usual grin replaced with a softer, more curious expression. “Hey, you okay?”

You raised a brow. “Why is everyone suddenly asking me that?”

“Because we care,” Yuna replied simply. “And... because you seem off. Jungkook’s leaving is hitting you harder than you’re letting on.”

You scoffed lightly, though your posture stiffened. “It’s not that deep, Yuna. He’s a friend. People leave all the time. Shane, Mingyu, you... you’re all still here.”

You could feel Yuna study you for a moment. “So, you're fine?”

“Completely fine,” You said, and nodded.

Were you really trying to convince her or yourself?

“Right,” Yuna responded, her tone laced with an almost imperceptible amusement. “It’s just funny how ‘fine’ people don’t avoid eye contact every time someone brings up Jungkook.”

You sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “I’m just... busy, okay? There’s so much going on, and—”

“And?”

You bit your lip, deflecting. “Look, I’ll miss him, sure. But I’m not losing him. He’s a text away. We’ll still talk,”

“Of course,” Yuna nodded, standing up and smoothing her shirt. “If you say so.”

You narrowed her eyes. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing.” Yuna smiled slightly, walking to the door. She paused just before leaving, throwing a glance over her shoulder. “You’re so oblivious.”

“To what?” You asked confused.

“Exactly,” And with that Yuna is gone.

Your mouth opened to respond, but she was already gone. You stood there, confused and restless. Oblivious to what?

The office hummed with the quiet rhythm of the evening shift. The December chill seeped through the windows, blending with the glow of computer screens and the occasional click of keyboards. You returned to her desk after your client meeting, only to find Shane and Mingyu locked in a heated argument.

“Dude, I’m telling you, Die Hard is totally a Christmas movie!” Shane insisted, arms flailing dramatically.

Mingyu scoffed. “Just because it’s set during Christmas doesn’t make it a Christmas movie.”

“Next, you’ll tell me Harry Potter is a Halloween movie because there’s a troll in the dungeon,” You quipped, trying to suppress a smirk.

“Okay, but seriously,” Shane interjected, “___, back me up here. Christmas is all about family, redemption, and explosions—Die Hard fits!”

Mingyu rolled his eyes. “You just like explosions.”

Their playful banter made you smile, but it didn’t fully erase the weight you felt inside. Your eyes drifted across the room, where Jungkook sat on the worn leather sofa, focused intensely on his laptop. The crease between his brows, the way his fingers moved with precision—there was something magnetic about him in moments like this.

Why does he make this so hard?

An hour slipped by. Mingyu and Shane finally gathered their things.

“Don’t stay too late, ______,” Mingyu called out. “And JK, take a break from being a workaholic, would you?”

Shane and you chuckled.

“Later losers,” Shane joked, shooting finger guns at Jungkook and you. You rolled your eyes while Jungkook chuckled and gave him a mock salute.

The door clicked shut, and the office felt quieter than ever. Jungkook stretched, shutting his laptop and walking towards your desk.

“Long day, huh?” he asked softly.

You nodded, your gaze drifting to his laptop. Curiosity morphed into something heavier.

“Wait... is that your handover sheet?” Your voice cracked slightly.

Jungkook chuckled, though his eyes reflected something bittersweet. “Yeah. Better to start now than rush later.”

“Look at you being all prepared huh?” You said as a joke.

“Isn’t it too soon?” you added, forcing a laugh that barely hid the lump in your throat.

“Maybe,” he replied. “But... better late than never, right?” His smile was soft, almost apologetic.

You nodded and felt a weight settle in your chest.

“You okay?” he asked you gently.

Were you seriously this obvious? Well since childhood, your emotions always showed on your face. You just can’t control it.

These days it feels like a flaw, more than usual.

“Yeah,” you lied. “Just... you know, work. Event tomorrow and all,”

Jungkook didn’t seem to buy it, but nodded anyway. 

“Heading out? I can drop you home.” He asked as you saw him pack his bag and wait for your answer.

“No, I’ve got stuff to finish,” you said quickly.

“I don’t mind waiting,” he offered.

“No, really,” you insisted, eyes glued to your screen. “Go home, Jungkook.”

He hesitated. “If you’re sure...”

“I’m sure.” You said and gave him a smile. It wasn't sincere and he knew that. He didn't want to push it.

Things between the two of you have been a little awkward anyway. As he left, the emptiness felt overwhelming. Better late than never... you repeated in your mind, but it didn’t feel right at all.

The office was eerily quiet now, with only the hum of the air conditioner and the faint clicking of your keyboard filling the space. You leaned back in her chair, stretching, when your  gaze fell upon the corkboard in front of your desk.

Pinned right in the center was a Laneige-branded polaroid, its white sleeve bordered with the brand’s iconic blue. In the photo, you were  mid-laugh, eyes crinkling with joy, while Jungkook stood beside you, grinning mischievously as he held up bunny ears behind your head.

A soft chuckle escaped your lips, and before you knew it, you were  pulled into the memory.

The Laneige event was supposed to be smooth sailing, until it wasn’t.  Your eyes darted between your laptop and the large screen where the AV was supposed to play the brand’s latest product ad. Except, instead of the sleek, high-definition video, there was static. Then a black screen.

“Oh no, no, no,” you muttered, frantically searching your files. The sound team huddled around you, whispering about corrupted files and missing backups.

“I’m screwed,” you whispered under your breath, panic tightening your chest.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Jungkook’s voice cut through the chaos. He crouched beside you, brows knitted with concern.

“The AV—it's all wrong. Somehow the final version is not playing even though we did the tech check this morning. It’s not working, and the event starts in fifteen minutes,” you rambled, barely breathing.

“Okay, hey, breathe,” he said softly. “We’ve got this.”

He turned to the sound team. “Check the codec settings and reload the player. Sometimes it freezes with large files. Do we have the original file on a backup drive?”

One of the techs nodded, scrambling to connect it.

“____, check if the client sent any last-minute updates.”

You nodded, fingers trembling as she searched. “Here! The client sent a backup this morning.”

“Perfect. Upload it to my drive,” Jungkook said, opening his laptop. Within moments, he transferred the file, reloaded the player, and the screen flickered back to life with the flawless Laneige ad.

You exhaled deeply, your heart still pounding. “Thank you,” you whispered.

“Teamwork, remember?” he grinned.

After the event wrapped up successfully, the two of you found yourselves at the instant photobooth Laneige had set up for guests. Jungkook pulled you in, making funny faces while youburst out laughing.

“Smile!” he said just as the camera clicked.

The polaroid printed out, and before they could take another, Mingyu, Shane, Yuna, Namjoon and Jin jumped in, cramming into the frame, laughing uncontrollably.

Back in the present, your smile was bittersweet. You traced the edge of the polaroid with your finger, the weight of the impending goodbye settling heavily on your chest.

“Drama queen,” you whispered softly, echoing your teasing words to Jungkook earlier. But deep down, you knew—this goodbye wasn’t going to be easy.

Maybe he was the saviour all along.

© foreignjaykay

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

The Only One Worth Posing For

Pairing: Matthew Gray Gubler x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.1k

Warnings: fluff

Summary: You're a famous photographer so you often get invited to red carpet events. Your best friend is an actor, and you've taken tons of pictures of him. The only problem is that he only poses for your camera.

Square Filled: ​“yeah, you’re cold. I’m giving you my jacket” for @spencerreidbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Camera? Check. Extra lenses? Check. Press pass? Check. Supply bag? Check. Gorgeous pink dress you got just for this event? Check. You check the time on your phone to make sure you’re not running late, which you’re not. Your best friend should already be at the movie premier for his new movie, and you’re one of the photographers on the red carpet.

You’re a famous photographer that takes pictures of celebrities for events like movie premiers, the Met Gala, award shows, etc. Your career started in high school when you took almost all of the pictures for the yearbooks. Then, you took pictures of your friend’s graduation pictures and got paid less than one hundred dollars for it. Once in college, you took a lot of photography classes that allowed you to hone your skills and become better.

Someone saw your pictures on your college website and loved them so they got in contact with you, and that’s how you got your first job at a magazine. It took about a decade to get to where you are now and you couldn’t be happier. Along the way, you’ve met and hung out with a ton of celebrities including your best friend. You two met back when you were the photographer for the magazine, and you’ve been inseparable ever since.

Speaking of the devil, he texts you just as you are leaving the apartment.

Are you on your way?

just leaving now! be there soon xx

I can’t wait to see you :)

The message brings a smile to your face. He never fails to lift your spirits no matter how you’re feeling. He sent for a car to take you to the movie premier instead of you taking your own. When you get there, the place is packed with press, fans, and cars carrying celebrities. 

“Thank you,” you smile at the driver and get out.

You head to the booth to check in and present your press pass to her. She confirms you’re on the list before letting you inside the area where the press is located. You set your bag on the ground and take out your favorite lens to use in times like these, the kind of lens that allows you to zoom in clearly even from where you are. The more popular you got, the more expensive equipment you bought.

You got here at the right time because celebrities show up not long after you get set up. Much like everyone here, you call their names in hopes they pose for your camera. You get a lot of good shots of very iconic celebrities like Johnny Depp, Jennifer Lopez, Morgan Freeman, Julia Roberts, and Sandra Bullock. The movie did so much press to make sure it is the most popular movie which is why so many celebrities are here.

You look to the left and see your best friend walk down the red carpet with a huge smile on his face. Matthew Gray Gubler. A man of many tricks. A man who never fails to make you smile. He looks past every person who calls out his name until he finds your camera. His eyes light up and begins posing for your camera and your camera only.

“Matthew! Look over here!” one of them says but he ignores them,

‘Stop it’, you mouth to him and his smile only gets bigger. What did you expect? He always does this whenever you’re in the crowd with a camera. He only cares about you and your career. If you can get good pictures of him, then you can sell them for a lot of money. People around you are frustrated with you and him but you don’t care about them.

Matthew leaves the red carpet and joins the group of celebrities who are hanging outside before they can go inside the theater. There are only a few more celebrities to capture, then you’re packing up your things. Apart from being part of the press, Matthew invited you as his plus one.

“Are you serious with Matthew?” one of the other photographers says.

“Sorry. Maybe next time,” you shrug.

You bring your case back to the town car that is still waiting for you, and you toss your press pass into the backseat. There is no reason for you to have two outfits when you can wear your red carpet outside as one of the press. You walk back over to the same booth and check in as a guest. She gives you your guest pass and you make your way into the area where all the celebrities are.

“I’m gonna slap that motherfucker when I see him,” you joke to yourself.

“Y/N! It’s so good to see you!” Shemar Moore smiles when he sees you.

“Shemar! I thought you were still filming S.W.A.T.,” you grin and hug him.

“I couldn’t miss this premier.”

“Where is Matthew?”

“Last I saw him was by the entrance to the theater.”

“Great. I’ll see you inside.” You leave his side and go find your best friend. He’s talking to one of the younger and newer kid stars, and you slink up to his side. “Excuse me. Mind if I borrow him for a second?”

“Sure. Congratulations.”

“Thanks.”

You pull him to the side and away from everyone for some semi-privacy.

“What the hell was that back there?”

“What?” he laughs.

“You can’t keep posing for my camera only.”

“You tell me this every time, and what do I keep telling you?” 

“Mine is the only one worth posing for.”

“See? It’s law at this point.”

He leans in and kisses you quickly. You two have been testing the waters for a romantic relationship for the last couple of weeks. It’s been going well because you’re taking it at your own speed without the public knowing. 

“You’re gonna piss off the other photographers.”

“I don’t care.”

He pulls you in and kisses you much deeper this time. You only allow two minutes to yourselves before you pull away from him. Goosebumps litter your arms and you shiver slightly under his gaze.

“You’re shivering. Are you cold?”

“That’s not why I’m shivering,” you say and shiver again.

“Yeah, you’re cold. I’m giving you my jacket.”

He sheds his jacket and slings it over your shoulder to provide you with warmth. He slides his hand into yours and pulls you toward the entrance to the theater.

“Let’s go watch this movie. Afterward, you’re gonna let me take you home.”

“We live together,” you giggle.

“Even better.”

“You’re a dork.”

“Only for you,” he winks and kisses your cheek.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[andypantsx3]

INCENDIARY | 6 | BAKUGOU KATSUKI x READER

SUMMARY: When you accidentally go viral in defense of quirkless people, an extremist group puts a target on your back. Pro hero Dynamight is the last person you want watching it.

TAGS/WARNINGS: romance, enemies to lovers, sexual tension, light hurt/comfort, themes of discrimination, canon typical violence, eventual smut, aged up characters, fem pronouns + afab reader

LENGTH: 3.7k | 6th of 8 chapters

“Absolutely not,” Bakugou growled.

You just barely managed to step back as he reached for your laptop with one heavily-muscled arm. He swiped downwards as though he meant to shut it himself, physically closing the book on this discussion.

You let out a strangled noise, stumbling away, beating a quick retreat around the counter as the whisk he’d been using in the pancake batter clattered off the side of the bowl. You knew he could jump it if he really wanted, but the buffer between you made you feel better, although his instant rejection raised your hackles.

“Wait, why not?” you asked, although you’d been uncertain about the request yourself. It’s not like you had set out to accidentally become one of the most famous quirkless people in the country. Not to mention every time you stumbled back into public view, it seemed to just prolong your stay here, and put you in additional danger with Matsui and his group.

“Because it’s a fucking target on your back, idiot,” Bakugou said, pinning you with those scarlet eyes. “All this work to protect your bratty ass and you want to signal to Matsui right where you are?”

“Well, no,” you huffed. “But how many chances do you get to be on TV? This has to be carefully thought through.”

One blonde brow raised as Bakugou crossed his arms over his chest. You noted he was sleeveless again today, in nothing but a black tank, and all that bare muscle was looking especially pronounced at the moment—possibly from the workout you’d heard him finish a half hour ago . You forcibly dragged your eyes back up to his face, only to find he was watching you in disbelief.

Oh. Right. He was on TV like every day.

“Well, how many chances does a normal person get to be on TV?” you corrected, your face feeling hot for some reason.

The haughty, dismissive twist of Bakugou’s features made your back molars ache with that familiar need to bite him again.

“You’ve already been on TV and look where it got you, brat,” Bakugou said, returning to beating the pancake batter with a little too much vigor, his biceps straining.

Your gaze snapped to the motion of his arm, and you wisely chose not to pursue the subject any further, lest he deprive you of pancakes. Also your mouth was suddenly weirdly dry, and you felt a little bit like you needed to sit down.

This discussion could be put on pause for a minute.

You beat a hasty retreat from the kitchen instead, throwing yourself onto the couch where all your textbooks were still waiting for you, highlighter and pens uncapped where you’d dumped them all over the table. You sighed, flopping down and returning to your homework, feeling weirdly hot and displeased.

Bakugou was technically right. You ran a huge risk giving an interview on Japan’s biggest daily news show. And you didn’t even want to be famous—you wanted nothing to do with the level of internet notoriety you’d received, and you were so eager to be out of this damn safehouse. Now that Bakugou had apologized and you’d cleared the air, it somehow felt like the safehouse was even smaller than before.

Over the last few days, you and Bakugou had done an awful lot together. Cooking, eating, making actual human conversation. He’d also indicated he would let you watch one single hour of trash reality TV later this evening, which was almost nice of him. This entire morning, you’d found yourself compelled to spend time out in the living room while he cooked, trying not to peer at him over the top of your laptop screen as you finished up a paper.

All that interaction felt like you were occupying very close quarters, however, and that strange sense of tension was still there between you, though you couldn’t put your finger on quite what it was now. It was probably safest to evacuate the safehouse before anything came to a head.

You finished up your homework, trying to push the interview request to the back of your mind.

But it stuck around stubbornly, as if superglued to the forefront of your brain. There was this roiling feeling within you, like the one that had come just before your blowout with Bakugou. And his saying no only made things worse—it was like he’d lit a pilot light, dangerously close to a trail of gunpowder…

The request lingered in the back of your mind over the following days. It was there when you fell asleep, when you showered, when you brushed your teeth. It lurked in the cup of the measuring spoons as you and Bakugou cooked together once more, in the faces of the actors during your single permitted hour of “idiot TV”. For something you were fairly certain you could have said no to just a few days ago and never thought of again, it had alarmingly persistent sticking power.

On Sunday afternoon you found yourself blinking back to yourself in the shower, realizing you’d lost dozens of minutes to contemplation, staring sightlessly at the ugly floral curtain. You sank to the floor of the shower, huddling into a contemplative ball under its steady spray. A memory niggled at your mind, fuzzy, barely remembered, and yet disturbing in its intensity.

The flash of an ugly blue-and-green polo, a pasty leer, and a surge of white hot anger, climbing up your chest, into your throat, and then—and then—

And then the convenience store. The two men, advancing into the space you’d ceded. A request that they mind their own business and leave you to yours.

“You wouldn’t know a thing about minding your own business, you fucking freak,” echoed on loop in your brain.

Wouldn’t know a thing about minding your own business—because you had asked a bunch of QRAs to back off. To back off of people like you.

And…well didn’t that make it your business? Yours, more than anyone’s? You were the quirkless person whose very existence was being picked over. You were the quirkless person getting harassed on the street, in the classroom, in some random convenience store where you were just trying to buy a sandwich. You were the person trapped in a safehouse because someone wanted to murder you—all for minding what was exactly your own business.

Before you knew what you were doing, you’d risen back to your feet, and were shampooing your hair with a vengeance. You rocketed through your personal care and all but leapt out of the shower, and stuffed yourself into your change of clothes, still half-wet.

And then you found yourself peering into the living room, and risking the fragile peace you’d found with Bakugou once again.

“The fuck about ‘no’ are you not getting?” Bakugou demanded, whipping around to stare at you before the question had even finished leaving your own mouth. He was stretched out over the yoga mat, holding himself perfectly level, with his feet not even touching the ground.

You gaped, your mouth falling open as your brain went momentarily offline. All thoughts of the interview evacuated your mind. “What the fuck are you doing?” you demanded, your eyes flicking unwillingly to his straining biceps.

Bakugou’s red-eyed glare cut through you. “It’s a fucking pushup, idiot.”

Your head shook as your eyes lingered in the dips and swells of his muscles. That black tank top he was always wearing was slowly riding up over the flat plane of his stomach and you could just make out the shadow of an intimidating set of abdominals from this angle.

“Nuh uh,” you said stupidly.

A blonde eyebrow raised, and he slowly, agonizingly pushed himself into an impossible ninety degree angle and on into a fucking handstand.

You could feel how slack your jaw was but there was nothing you could do about your caveperson image. Your eyes were nailed to the trim waist and mouth-watering set of abs bared by this move. “You—pushup—that’s not—” you just managed to clamp your mouth closed as that horrible echo of pegnate?? gregnant?? tolled in the depths of your mind.

You were so focused on the flex of Bakugou’s arm as he lowered himself again that you almost missed the flash of a smirk across his mouth.

“Got something else to say, brat?” he asked.

The smugness in his tone raised your hackles, but it took you several more minutes to fumble around and locate your faculties for human speech. “I—yes, as a matter of fact. I’m doing the interview. And that’s not a question, it’s a statement.”

Bakugou pressed into another handstand, and then pushed up out of it, easy as anything. A vague sense of annoyance buzzed about you like a mosquito as he righted himself. Showoff.

“I already said you’re not, princess,” Bakugou said. Sweat glinted at his collar points and the line of his hair, giving him a faint glow in the afternoon sunlight. That sweet, tangy caramel scent met your nose again as he moved closer, crossing those biceps over his chest.

You tried not to go cross-eyed. “Well… I already said I am,” you told him, yanking your eyes firmly back up to his.

Something about the look on his face made your teeth ache to latch over his skin again, to clamp down and bite.

He leaned in, bringing a whiff of caramel with him, and you stumbled back a step, surprised. “You mean you’re not gonna be good for me, princess?” he asked, something smug thick in his tone.

Instantly your face flamed, the way it had a few days ago over breakfast. Good for him? Good for him? Your ears went so hot that the air around them chilled you.

“I’ll show you what’s good for you,” you said nonsensically, raising your hands to his chest to push him back, only to find he was as immovable as a stone wall, and as hard as one, too. Your hands froze on his pecs, your face getting even hotter with the heat of him under your hands.

A wicked smirk carved the sides of his mouth, and your brain suddenly fuzzed with static, panicking.

You couldn’t think—all you could do was reach up, catch a fistful of his hair, and yank him down into a headlock.

“Oi, what the fuck—” Bakugou swore, twisting. You clamped your arm down, panicking harder, realizing you’d just grabbed a trained combat professional, desperate to keep him down.

But Bakugou wasted no time. No sooner had you tensed your arm than he’d seized you under your legs and back, pushing you straight up and over his head. You flailed, trying to grab back onto him, but he swung you right down on the yoga mat he’d been occupying, grappling for your arms and pinning you down neatly. He managed it in under two seconds, and you stared up at him, dazed, taking in the incredulous look that split his stupid handsome face.

“What the fuck was that for, brat?” he demanded, his face filling up your entire vision.

“Showing you—what’s good for you—” you managed to cough out, winded.

A feral smile slashed across Bakugou’s mouth, completely unexpectedly. “I’ve met fuckin’ babies who can do better than that.”

You glared up at him, trying to angle your foot to kick him off of you, but he shifted, pressing his knee down on your leg in warning.

“You’re not doing the interview,” he said firmly, his tone final.

But you had already made up your mind, the second you’d sifted through those memories in the shower and realized just why the request had stuck with you. And not even pro hero Dynamight was enough force to stop you.

“Yes I am,” you told him, staring him straight in the eye. You tried to put all your conviction, all your determination and intent into your stare, into the firmness of your tone.

“For what?” Bakugou demanded hotly, his grip tightening on your wrists.

“For me!” you said. “I keep getting accused of not minding my own business, for being a nosy bitch or whatever, and I’m sick of it! Being quirkless is my business. I completely intended to mind my own business the night of the first video, going out with my friends and getting drunk, and it’s those QRA assholes who showed up on my campus in the first place! And then in the convenience store—all I was doing was trying to buy a sandwich!”

Bakugou’s mouth pressed into an annoyed line. “Yeah? And what are you even gonna say, brat?”

You grunted, trying to shift him off of you, but he held fast, pressing you down harder into the mat. “I want to give a real account of what it’s like to be a quirkless person who is minding their own business. Who was literally just living my life, uninvolved in any sort of activism or anything, and still got pulled into multiple situations where my life and my safety are threatened! The point is that ordinary people need to care about this stuff because it apparently can seep into your life whether you think you can avoid it or not. And some of us have been learning the hard way.”

Bakugou’s brows furrowed, his full mouth curling up in distaste like he hated to even be contemplating what you’d said. “So you wanna let Matsui know right where you are because you’re what—pissed off?”

For a moment, the only thought in your head was leaning forward and biting that expression right off of his face. Your whole brain was swirling with the barely-contained need to do something to him—until a revelation dawned on you.

You would be letting Matsui know right where you were.

Matsui, who had been waiting in the shadows like some sort of phantom harm. Matsui, who’d been bold enough to send a threat to your university, had been bold enough to run his mouth in all of the unsavory parts of the internet, but hadn’t yet been bold enough, or knowledgeable enough, to make his final move. Matsui—-who no one could actually touch or bring in until his threat was confirmed to be real.

And really, what better way to confirm than to draw him out?

You stared at Bakugou, your eyes running down his now-familiar features. That pert nose, that pretty mouth, always set in determination, those blazing scarlet eyes, always searching out a fight. His blond brows, still drawn down in focus, and the haughty tilt to his jaw. If there was one person equipped to handle Matsui, if he did come for you, it was the annoying pro hero currently pinning you to his yoga mat.

“What, scared to fight him?” you asked, knowing exactly the kind of reaction it would get from Bakugou.

His teeth gritted, and he leaned down to put his face into yours. “I ain’t scared of shit.”

“Then what’s the issue?” you asked. “Didn’t you say at the beginning that you wanted to hunt him down yourself and crush him?”

Bakugou’s expression darkened, getting slightly redder like he was getting angry, like he knew you were baiting him—but if there was one thing about him, it’s that he was an incredibly consistent personality. “I’ll fucking destroy him.”

You quickly suppressed the smile that threatened to overtake your mouth. “Good, then we’re in agreement.”

Bakugou looked almost apoplectic. “We are not in agreement, you goddamn brat,” he spat.

“You just said you were gonna destroy him!” you said. If your hands had been free, you would have thrown them up in exasperation.

“Jeanist has to agree to this idiot fucking plan, and he’s not gonna do that if it puts you at risk, you fucking brat. There’s no guarantee that Matsui wouldn’t bring a bunch of his quirk supremacist friends, it would be extremely easy for you to get your ass blown off the face of the earth. What makes you think you’d even fucking make it out of there in one piece?” Bakugou growled.

You looked up at him, slightly touched by the concern. But try as you might, you couldn’t imagine Bakugou of all people losing track of the fight and letting you get cremated. The more you insisted on this idea, the more you believed it yourself.

“Because I’ll have you,” you said simply.

Bakugou paused, blinking down at you through long, golden lashes. His face went suddenly still in a way that you hadn’t seen before, and without his features twisted up in disdain, he looked instantly, incredibly handsome. “What,” he said flatly.

You squirmed a little in his grip, embarrassed by how sincerely you meant it. But you pushed on. “Because I trust you to protect me,” you said. “You have so far. And you’ve proved I was wrong about you before. You haven’t given me a reason not to trust you.”

Bakugou’s face spasmed, like he was desperately trying to not feel human emotion, but you could see the way the tips of his ears went pink through the ashy blonde strands of his hair.

You thought this had been a rather effective play on your part, though you did mean it. He’d saved you once before, made you tea and food and let you cry in front of him like a big dramatic baby. He’d apologized, and spent the last week trying to make it up to you, albeit aggressively, by letting you get away with more and trying to feed you real meals.

Actions spoke loudly, and Bakugou’s actions had proven himself to you, as far as you were concerned.

Those scarlet eyes cut away from you, focusing on some point on the floor to the left of your head, and it was then you knew you’d gotten him.

“You’re a goddamn pain in my ass,” he said, his voice slightly more gravelly than before. “You can go on one fucking condition.”

You nodded eagerly, thrilled with your success. “Okay. Yes. Whatever it is, yes.”

Bakugou’s lip curled, and his gaze cut back to yours. “You’re going to learn self-defense before you go on that stupid fucking show.”

You blinked. “In less than a week? During finals week?”

“As much as I say you will,” he growled, raising his eyebrows at you significantly.

You got the impression then that this was a non-negotiable point for him. And much as you doubted you’d been an expert by the time Thursday rolled around, you couldn’t deny the idea had merit. You probably weren’t going to take out Matsui himself, but it wouldn’t hurt to know how to suppress someone with a lesser quirk.

“Okay,” you said, nodding. “I’ll do it.”

Bakugou shifted over you so he was crouched over you, almost sitting on your stomach, still pinning your wrists down at the side of your head. A mean smirk overtook his face again, and a warning light flicked on in the back of your brain.

“First lesson, then, brat. Try to get out of this hold,” he said.

You stared up at him in disbelief, incredulity and annoyance instantly bubbling up in your veins like they’d just been set on a hot stove. “Now? Get out of this?” you demanded.

Bakugou’s smile was a wicked, feral thing, and it made something hot curl in your stomach, even more disconcerting than your annoyance. “If you wanna make it to your computer in time to respond to the email, then you’d better hurry up,” he said.

Immediately you started bucking in his hold, trying to shove him off of you with the raise of your hips, trying to twist out of his grip like a spineless jellyfish. Bakugou held you down, looking far too self-satisfied, and way too relaxed, like this was child’s play to him, while you struggled for your life. You kicked and curled and squirmed but none of it would dislodge him, and the insane urge to fucking bite him rose within you again, blotting out all rational thought.

Before you had realized what you were doing, you’d turned your head and brought your mouth to one of the arms holding you down. And then you leaned up and bit him right in the middle of his bicep, clamping down for all you were worth.

“What the fuck—!” Bakugou shouted, suddenly pulling his hands off of you just as hot, reflexive sparks of his quirk shot out of his palms. The motion jerked the skin of his arm out of your mouth, and you could see the ring of your tooth marks left in the firm muscle, smell the ashy sweetness of his quirk heat the air around you.

You realized he’d only moved to protect you, but that was enough of a surprise for you to buck him off of you, sliding quickly out from underneath him.

He recovered quickly enough, catching you by the scruff of your shirt and slamming you back down on the yoga mat. He covered you with his body again, his palms still hot from his quirk.

“What the fuck was that you goddamn brat?” he demanded.

You gave him your shittiest, smuggest grin. “Self defense,” you said. “And I escaped your hold, even if only for a second, so I win.”

Bakugou looked beyond pissed.

“You’re gonna get it, you shitty fucking brat,” he told you warningly, his tone going darker.

But you didn’t care. You were far too satisfied with your unexpected win, and the realization of your desire to bite him that had compounded over the course of your isolation with him.

You loved the look of him, incredulous, furious, and so impossibly golden and handsome over you—this, you thought wildly, was worth any revenge he could think up. This was exactly how you wanted him.

And then Bakugou moved, his revenge swift and merciless.

He uttered your name like an oath, ducked his head. And then he caught your mouth in a kiss—hot and furious.

And the tension you had sensed building all along finally snapped.

[axie-lot]

Time is the best healer

Characters: Morax (zhongli)

Warning: Male characters,Spoiler,mention of death,Discussion. It's the first time I'm writing romance.

Theme: angst with a happy ending

This work was originally written by me in Portuguese, and I translated it using Google Translator, so I apologize for any translation errors

Summary:Long before Liyue became the thriving city it is today, there existed two lovers whose bond seemed unbreakable until a terrible incident tore them apart.

[Masterlist]

The old times… That time that never returns… Where only memories of what happened and those who were present remain…

For those who live for centuries, good memories will be their best comfort… Many years ago, when the seven Archons were still established, during the time of the great war, when it was being decided who would occupy one of the seven seats that Celestia had established. In a region near the sea, located to the east of Teyvat, lived a small nation that was beginning to prosper, the people of Guili, who would later become known as the people of Liyue, even in that cruel time of war. This nation was blessed with the protection of Morax, a god known for his feats of power during this war, and his followers, who made contracts with him and swore loyalty. These followers are known as the Adepti. Well, these same protectors finally had a moment of rest during this violent and bloody war, and so some of them decided to have some fun and distract themselves a little. At the top of the great Mount Aocang, three Adepti were gathered. Among them was a woman known as Cloud Retainer, a tall woman with long hair, who seemed to be in the middle of a friendly argument with a shorter woman known as Guizhong. Between them was a man laughing at this small argument, a man with some features resembling a white tiger, known by the name [name]. And a little further back, almost unnoticed, observing everything that was happening, was the famous Morax, who allowed himself to rest with his companions. He couldn't help but have a slight smile at the corner of his mouth as he observed everything unfolding.

"This Adeptus is certain she created the best invention! Hmm!" — said the taller woman while crossing her arms — "Well, my dear friend, even though I think your creation is good, mine is better, just look at how perfectly it works." — The shorter one said with a smile on her face — "Well, this one does not accept that, so this one thinks we should ask for the opinion of a third party." — Cloud Retainer said while looking at her invention — "Very well, let it be done!" — Guizhong looked to the side until her gaze stopped on the beast-man sitting on a rock watching and laughing — "Very well, [name], you will be the judge!" [name] almost fell off the rock, so surprised to be dragged into the conversation out of nowhere. He stared wide-eyed, pointing to himself with one hand. "ME??!!…why me????" — The man with tiger-like features complained — "You were chosen by this one and by Guizhong, now make your decision!" The two women stared at [name] while he struggled to respond. His eyes darted around, searching for a way to escape this situation, until they landed on a figure who had been watching the scene. He immediately saw his way out.

"Well, I'm not a good judge, but you know who could answer this? Morax himself! That's right, he's much better for this!" "Morax!!! Please help this poor little tiger and be the judge!! I'll do anything!"

[name] ran towards the man who had been observing everything from a distance. The man sighed and said,

"Very well, I will be the judge, but before we make a decision, let's just sit at the table and enjoy the view of Mount Aocang, and also the company of us all gathered together."

Everyone agreed to do what Morax had said, as it wasn’t every day they could gather to enjoy the moment. So they all went to sit at the table, except for [name], since there were only three seats at the table. But he didn't mind, as his favorite spot was sitting by the tree near the table. The four friends stayed there talking, enjoying the break from the ongoing war. They chatted away, the conversation was so good that the two women forgot about the competition, and they were so engrossed in the conversation that they didn't even notice the time passing, as night began to fall. But as the darkness of night started to settle in, the friends began to say their goodbyes, as they all had things to do. [name], already tired, started on his way home, but on the way, Morax decided to accompany the beast-man. The journey was in complete silence; neither of them said a word. They were just enjoying the comfortable silence between them. They walked until they reached a mountain, a mountain they frequented often, as it offered the perfect view of Liyue, a city that was still beginning to prosper. [name] was the first to sit on the edge of the mountain, and soon after, the amber-eyed man sat beside him, pulling the smaller one closer. The two of them stayed there for a while, watching the still small city they protected, until the silence was broken.

"The city looks so beautiful at night… I never get tired of this view. I'm very excited to see what it will look like in the future."

"I'm sure the city will prosper in the future. Well, I'll do my best since it's under my protection and that of the Adepti." [name] let out a small laugh and rested his head on the taller man's shoulder.

"Of course! Since it's under the protection of the great and powerful Rex Lapis!!" — [name] said enthusiastically, but then let out a sigh and spoke again —

"You know, Morax… I love when we have days like these, where we don't have to fight… we can just enjoy the day." — [name] said, letting out a small yawn —

"It's on days like these that I can spend hours talking to Guizhong!! She always shows me her new inventions! We spend time wandering through the lands of Liyue! And she also helps me escape when I play pranks on others!" — [Name] said, struggling to maintain his cheerful tone, despite being exhausted.

"Believe me, my little tiger, I enjoy days like these too." — Morax paused as he spoke, glancing at the smaller figure resting on his shoulder.

"But I will make you a promise, my little tiger, once I secure my position among the Seven, I promise we won't have to worry about fighting anymore." "Do you promise?" — [Name] asked in a sleepy voice. "I promise you."

[Name] finally gave in to sleep, resting on the taller man's shoulder, his tail curled around Morax. Morax smiled at the sight, gently brushing his hand through [Name]'s ears and hair, then kissed his forehead.

"I promise you, my dear little tiger."

War is a tragedy... War always brings suffering and pain... War brings death...

Guizhong was dead.

Guizhong had lost her life in a fierce battle on the Guili Plains, defending her people. [Name]'s best friend was dead! The one with whom he shared everything, the one who always gave advice. [Name] felt a whirlwind of emotions: sadness, guilt for not being there to help her, but above all, anger. His anger was directed at the people of Guili, for Guizhong had died defending them. But why? Why would an immortal give her life to protect creatures with such short lives? Why protect them? They didn’t deserve such protection.

As time passed, [Name]'s anger only grew. He began to despise the beings called humans. In his grief, he distanced himself from the other Adepti, spending more time in his domain. The cheerful demeanor he once had disappeared entirely, leaving behind only a person consumed by rage. His companions grew worried about this strange behavior, attempting to visit [Name], but he always declined, claiming he was busy with work. Over time, their visits became less frequent, as they too were preoccupied with their own grief for those lost in the Archon War. Morax, who had now claimed a position among the Seven and become the Geo Archon, leader of the people of Liyue, who were once the people of Guili, grew increasingly concerned about [Name]'s behavior and the constant refusal to accept visitors. Feeling worried and missing his companion, he decided to intervene.

Morax entered [Name]'s domain, ignoring his warnings that he was too busy, and after a long time, they finally stood face to face. [Name] was completely different from how Morax remembered him—his once lively, joyful eyes were now hollow. They stared at each other in silence, but unlike before, when the silence between them was comfortable, this silence brought discomfort to both. After several minutes, [Name] finally spoke. "Leave, Morax. I don't have time to talk, I'm busy." — [Name] spoke coldly, locking eyes with the taller man. Unfazed by [Name]'s tone, Morax approached him, placing a hand on his cheek. "[Name], tell me what's happening. You haven't left your domain in a long time..." — the dragon-man asked calmly, trying to understand. [Name] pulled away from the touch, which was unusual since he would normally seek it out.

"Nothing's happening, I'm just busy."

"[Name], don't lie to me. Tell me the truth. You haven't even seen how Liyue has grown... the city is magnificent, you should see it. You would love it." — Morax said, more firmly this time.

That was the moment when [Name] finally let everything out. It was the moment he exploded, unable to contain his feelings any longer. It was the moment he couldn't bear the hatred he harbored for mortals anymore. All the rage he had carried alone for centuries—the hatred of the mortals who caused the death of his best friend. "Why should I care about anything those pathetic mortals create?! They're so weak they can't even defend themselves!! Let them die, no one would care, because our sacrifice to protect them isn't worth it! It only brings death to us! And it's all their fault!" As [Name] spoke with fury in his voice, his power, driven by his anger, began to affect the environment around him. The air in his domain grew colder, and the ground beneath his feet started to freeze, with spikes of ice emerging around him.

For a moment, Morax was surprised,not by [Name]'s power, but by his words. He hadn't expected this deep hatred for mortals. But recognizing the gravity of the situation, Morax quickly regained his composure, knowing that calmness was the best way to handle it.

He tried to approach the younger one again, ignoring the environment that had been affected by [name]'s power.

"[Name]…" – he attempted to speak, but was quickly interrupted.

"Shut up, Morax!" – [name] shouted.

With years of accumulated anger, [name] was blinded by it. He did something he had never thought of doing consciously.

"It was all your fault!! You made us Adepti protect those pests! It was all your fault! All the deaths of our kind!! Her death was your fault!"

In a moment of fury, [name] charged at Morax with all his strength, but before attacking him, he stopped. A glimmer of consciousness held him back, for he knew that if he attacked Morax, he would break the contract between them, and breaking the contract meant that [name] would have to pay a price. He knew this would be a bad idea, and another reason that stopped him was knowing he would lose the fight.

[Name] stood still for a moment before taking the opportunity to flee, as he didn’t want to face the taller man. He had many reasons for this,one of them being his hatred for Morax wanting to protect the humans, but also, deep down, because he was ashamed of losing control and nearly attacking him.

Morax, still standing in his place, didn't seem too affected by [name]'s outburst of rage, though his gaze showed a hint of concern. When he saw [name] disappear before him, he didn’t follow. With his years of experience, Morax knew that both he and [name] needed this space, that [name] needed time to clear his mind, and that time was the best remedy for the hatred he was feeling.

Years… Or rather, centuries passed… It has been a long time since [name] set foot in Liyue…

During that time, Morax regularly visited [name]’s dwelling, ensuring it was always in good condition. For the first centuries, [name] traveled between nations, without a fixed place to stay. He would linger in one nation for a while and then move to another, but [name] always avoided contact with mortals, as he still harbored anger toward them.

However, that anger gradually lessened over the centuries. [Name]'s view of mortals began to change when he met one by chance—a mortal who saved his life after he had gotten into a fight and was defeated. [Name] had been gravely injured and was certain he would die. Due to the blood loss, he passed out, but when he woke up, he was lying in a comfortable bed, with one of the "pests" tending to him. He tried to resist, refusing the help, but his body was too weakened by his defeat, so he reluctantly accepted the mortal’s aid, though not without first threatening to kill him if he tried anything and promising to leave once fully healed.

But the irony of fate is truly a divine comedy…

[Name] grew attached to the mortal as the latter helped him recover. He learned that the mortal was a renowned doctor from Fontaine named Lucien. And in the end, [name] didn’t leave after recovering.

A beautiful friendship blossomed

A friendship between a mortal and an immortal who once claimed to hate humans.

"The pest" taught [name] the importance of mortal life.

As the years passed with Lucien, [name]'s hatred toward mortals diminished. He began to understand the significance of mortal life. Unlike immortals who had centuries of life, mortals had a short time to live, and they had to make the most of that small window.

[Name] realized that the strong must protect those who cannot defend themselves.

So, [name] spent years by the mortal's side, protecting him. He watched Lucien find love and have children with her. Love was something [name] had only felt once in his life, and it had been for the very man he decided to leave behind.

When [name] saw Lucien interacting with his beloved, he couldn’t help but think of Morax.

[Name] missed Morax.

But [name] was still too proud to go back.

He stayed with Lucien until death parted them. He saw the man age over time, and [name] witnessed the death of the same man who had made him care about mortals again.

[Name] ensured the mortal had a proper burial, laying him to rest in the backyard of the house they had shared. That day was a sad one for [name], as he was truly shaken by the loss. But unlike when he grieved for Guizhong, this time he didn’t let anger consume him or blame anyone or anything. He simply accepted Lucien’s death.

It was also on that day, after many years, that [name] finally came to terms with Guizhong’s death. He realized that he shouldn’t have blamed anyone for her death, not the mortals nor Morax, because Guizhong had chosen to protect the mortals, knowing the dangers involved. It was her choice…

And so, the years passed. [Name] decided to remain in the region where he and Lucien had lived, helping the people who resided there.

After everything [Name] had been through, he finally gathered the courage to face the past and return to Liyue. The hatred he once held for mortals had long faded, and he realized it was time to look back. He set aside his pride because, deep down, he knew he had been the one in the wrong in this story. He decided it was time to put an end to it.

But there was another reason he missed his old friends.

He missed Morax.

And so, [Name] returned to Liyue. He was amazed at how much the people had evolved. He remembered how they used to be, a small group living in the region. As he wandered through the city, his eyes scanned every detail, his tail swaying in excitement as he explored.

He got lost in the crowds of people coming and going through the city streets. After some time of wandering, he remembered the reason he had come back to Liyue in the first place: to learn more about the supposed death of the Geo Archon. Based on [Name]’s logic, the best place to find information was a crowded spot. He quickly glanced around and spotted a teahouse where a few people were gathered around tables, listening to a man speaking. [Name] made his way over and sat at one of the tables. The first thing he noticed was that the man speaking was a storyteller, recounting the adventures of the Adepti. [Name] smiled at the memories this brought back.

He became distracted, lost in the memories of those times. He had planned to ask the storyteller about the Geo Archon’s death, but suddenly he felt someone sit in the chair next to him. Out of instinct, he looked to see who it was, and when he saw, he froze.

“My little tiger, it’s been a while,” the man with brown hair said, a slight smile on his face.

“Morax...” [Name] whispered in surprise. He hadn’t expected to see him so soon.

“Well, that is my name, but I ask that you call me Zhongli from now on, my dear friend. How’s life? It’s been centuries,” Zhongli said as he began sipping his tea.

“It’s been so long... I wanted to apologize for disappearing...” The younger one spoke in a soft voice.

“Don’t worry, my little tiger. You needed your time.”

The two men continued their conversation, and it seemed as though the centuries of separation had no effect on them. They spoke as if they had never been apart, and over time, [Name] began to relax more and more in Zhongli’s presence. After a while, they left the teahouse,or rather, they left Liyue Harbor altogether,to continue their conversation in peace. As they talked, they caught up on everything they had missed about each other. [Name] told Zhongli about his life over the centuries and how his hatred for mortals had slowly faded. Zhongli, in turn, shared how Liyue had changed during that time.

Finally, their walk led them to the top of a mountain, offering a perfect view of Liyue Harbor. They both sat down on the edge of the mountain, enjoying the view.

“This scene brings back memories,” [Name] said with a small smile.

“Well, my friend, we used to do this regularly, centuries ago,” Zhongli said, gazing at the harbor below.

“Even though I tried to ignore it, I missed this. I missed you. I really missed you,” the young tiger boy said, looking at the other man, his ears lowered.

The man with amber eyes looked at the tiger boy for a moment, then gently held the younger one’s chin. After a brief pause, he pulled [Name] into a kiss. It was a soft, tender kiss, filled with the longing they both felt. During the kiss, Zhongli felt [Name]’s tail curl around his torso, pulling them even closer together. After a long, heartfelt kiss, they finally parted, and Zhongli spoke.

“My little tiger, believe me, I missed you too.”

[ibarkatpeoplewoofwoofbitch]

EVE AND LILITH THEORY

Okay so we don't know why lilith went missing for seven years. But what I do know is this ain't lilith

Lilith hair is slicked back in every backstory we see of her

In the photos, we see that'd show if she has her horns or slick back hair, which is covered by hats or completely cut off.

But I know for sure in this scene right here before what probably was before lilith left it looked like Eve

And here's my theorys.

NUMBER ONE:LILITH IS CONTROLLED BY EVE. (Far fetched and wrong words but you'll see what I mean)

it could be their the same penny on different sides like in brittle bones Nicky number two when the devil and God are the same people

Like the lyrics "I'm mufasa and I am scar" it's like yin and yang

In goodness, theirs evil and in evil theirs goodness.

THEORY NUMBER 2:EVE AND LILITH MADE A DEAL.

Lilith was a famous woman in hell, not just because of being queen but also because of her singing. (Can't wait to see who is casted for her I hope it's someone who can hit high notes). Maybe lilith wanted to "get away" from everything but still wanted to be in touch and see what's going on hence all the eyes everywhere in hell.

And maybe Eve wanted a family. Cause adam does not seem like someone you'd wanna spend your whole (after)life with. Eve probably wanted someone who'd love her and by lucifer loving lilith and forgets things like where charlie was even though he's not a bad guy and says vaggie as maggie. Lucifer probably dissociated so much he forgot lilith looked different but still loved lilith who was infact Eve.

THEORY NUMBER 3:EVE IS DEAD

I don't think she made it into heaven, unlike Adam. Cause by what we've seen, no one knows why people go to heaven, not even a seraphim (the highest rank of angel right below the power god has but the second highest rank.)

THEORY NUMBER 4:THEY BOTH RAN AWAY

Powerful women becoming wives arc 🤷‍♂️

THEORY NUMBER 5:EVE HAS ALASTORS SOUL.

Look I don't know much but I do know eve does that whole pretty little liars smile and shushing the mouth thing. Who better to own alastors soul then someone who smiles no matter what?

THEORY NUMBER 6:ALASTOR KILLED EVE

Look, Eve was probably the first human to fall besides Well lilith who fell with lucifer. Eve could've been one of the higher overlords that alastor broadcasted killing.

THEORY NUMBER 7: LUTE IS EVE

Yknow I thought this one was a far stretched one. Theirs 3 clues. Lutes personality was like someone who could put up with Adam. And I know Adam made the exorcist. But vaggie didn't like Adam and before she fell she didn't like killing a demon.

Lute has the same personality as Adam but is way more serious then Adam is so Adam doesn't blow anything but she doesn't get mad when he gets close to doing it and when he did she stayed by his side agreeing with him.

Lute was personally distraught by Adam's death. And of course, she isn't like this with no one else. Why didn't the exorcist get distraught that they were obviously around him?

[allisluv]

ok so i’ve like been dead forever and ever but like hear me out:

eddie roundtree x dunne!reader!!! like omg it would be so cute and like it’s everything to me.

imagine, eddie can’t help but be smitten with the youngest dunne, absolutely DOWN BAD, and he just cannot care what billy or graham would think about it. he’s just too whipped for them to even care. he would do all kinds of stupid stuff like sneaking out to see them in the middle of the night, climbing in their window to see them and play cringy guitar songs for them.

idk it’s something that is on my mind 24/7

-🦇

the thrill of the chase.

pairing: eddie roundtree x fem!dunne!reader

content warnings: kissing, not edited, suggestive, really bad flirting/teasing, eddie's a dork but we love him for that!!

wc: 0.9k

a/n: ugh now i wanna make this a series

It’s late in the evening when the neighborhood finally slows to a stand-still and everyone retreats away from the Dunne household and back to their own homes. Everyone had been desperate to get a glimpse of the infamous Daisy Jones and The Six, and while you can’t deny that it was lovely to be back home, seeing your family and old friends, its nice to finally have the privacy that none of you have been entitled to since becoming famous.

Its eerily quiet in your childhood home. Your mom had taken full advantage of the festivities early on in the day and has now fallen asleep on the sofa with a glass of red wine still clutched in her left hand. You quietly set it down on the coffee table before throwing a blanket over her and trailing up the staircase.

Graham is staying at the hotel across the road with Karen, and Billy and Camila have not long put Julia down for the night. They’ve disappeared into their own bedroom and you don’t want to think about what your brother and his wife are doing behind that closed door.

You creep across the landing in your bare feet before slipping into your bedroom and slotting the lock into place. As your eyes search the room, you notice that little has changed since you, Camila and the boys up and left for California a few years ago. It makes your heart ache a little, honestly.

So much has happened in such a short period of time, and while you would not change it for the world, you have to admit it can be a little overwhelming and scary at times, which is why it feels weird to be back where this “silly little dream” all started.

Shaking your head, you cross the room and lift your suitcase onto your bed. There’s no point in unpacking when you’ll be leaving in a week, anyway, so you just pull out the neccessary toilitries and pyjamas before moving to pull the curtains across.

As you do so, you can’t help but notice a familiar mop of brown hair climbing the drainpipe, and your heart does a flip in your chest. Cracking open the window just enough to stick your head out, you hiss, “What the hell are you playing at, Ed?”

Eddie offers you a lopsided grin, and with practiced ease, hauls onto your windowsill, still holding the drainpipe for stability. “You gonna let me in or keep me out here all night, sweetheart?”

With a roll of your eyes, you carefully push the window open, before taking his hand and helping him inside. You give his arm a hard tug and he tumbles onto the carpet with a soft thud.

“Ouch,” Eddie mumbles, clutching his shoulder. “Help!” He whisper-hisses. “I’ve been fatally wounded in battle.”

You roll your eyes once more. “You’re such a dork.” You hesitate before asking anyway. “You’re not really hurt, right?”

“That depends.”

“On?”

“Will you kiss it better if I say yes?” He grins cheekily and narrowly avoids the pillow that you fire at his head. He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth “Now, is that really any way to treat your knight in shining armour?”

You bite back a laugh. “You’re hardly a knight in shining armour; you’re dressed in denim, babe.”

Eddie pushes himself to his feet with an exaggerated sigh. He closes the distance between the two of you, and his hands find the plush of your hips. “I thought you loved me in denim,” he sticks his bottom lip out in a pout.

“I love you alive. And if my brother finds out you’re in here, he’ll—”

“He’ll skin me alive, yeah, I know, sweetheart,” Eddie presses a kiss to your forehead. “I still dont see why we cant just tell him. I mean, we’ve been sneaking around since we were seventeen. If the idiot hasn’t caught on now, I doubt he ever will.”

You shake your head fondly. “Don’t call him an idiot. He’s my brother.”

“Are you saying he’s not an idiot?” Eddie arches a brow.

“…He’s my brother.”

Eddie’s face splits into a grin and he presses a quick kiss to your lips.

You melt into his embrace as his tongue slips into your mouth. He tastes of whiskey and cigarettes and he smells like home. You sigh into the kiss, and he hums approvingly, guiding you backwards until your thighs hit the edge of the bed.

“What are you doing here anyway?” You ask as you lower yourself down into a sitting position. He follows suit, and then you’re crawling into his lap, straddling his waist.

His hands find purchase on your hips again, and he rubs soothing circles into the skin there as he peppers your face in kisses. “Missed you.”

“We saw each other an hour ago,” You giggle, raking your fingers through his hair.

“An hour too long if you were to ask me,” He kisses the tip of your nose before slotting his mouth over yours again.

Minutes pass in a blur of gentle caresses and muffled giggles, before you finally pull away to catch your breath. Your hands are braced on his shoulders as you finally ask, “Can you stay?”

“What about your brother?” Eddie gently teases, poking you in the stomach.

“My door’s locked,” You shrug. “We’ll just have to make sure you go back out the window in the morning, won’t we?” You nibble on your bottom lip anxiously. “You don’t mind, do you? I mean, I don’t want you thinking I’m hiding you because I’m ashamed of you or anything.”

Eddie smiles reassuringly. “I don’t think that for a second, sweetheart.” He tugs you closer and drops his voice to a conspirative whisper. “Besides, you know I’ve always found it kinda hot when we sneak around. Something about the thrill of the chase…”

[liillyliilly]

All Night Long

iwaizumi hajime x reader words; 1162 synopsis; the whole pen pal thing had been his mom's idea. now? he was glad that he had someone like her to tell everything to.

(So, if you just give me a chance, I can still show you romance)

Iwaizumi doesn’t quite remember when he started sending letters to Y/n. All he remembers is that his mom wanted him to diversify his communication skills, since he had only really ever talked to the boys on his volleyball team.

So, sending letters back and forth with a girl from Tokyo seemed like a rational solution to Mrs. Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi would send one letter one week and then she would send a letter the next one. And that’s how it had been for four years.

At first the letters were strictly professional. Asking about goals, academics, and life plans. Gradually, the shells of both Iwaizumi and Y/N were chipped away at. Divulging details of a bad kiss, or something hilarious a friend did. When she started to cut out classic memes, putting cardstock editions of volleyball player trading cards and writing out various links to Rick Astley's "Never Gonna Give You Up", Iwaizumi thought he met his almost heavenly match.

While she didn't play volleyball, she treated it like something special, and respected Iwaizumi's love for the sport. He felt proud when she acknowledged how much of a hard-worker he must have been to be ranked so highly in his prefecture with his team.

She also always knew what to write to him to help motivate him. Quotes from famous people never made an appearance, she just had the old soul wisdom to articulate exactly what needed to be said to him.

Iwaizumi does remember when he started to wait right next to the mailbox just so he could read her letter as soon as possible. And he does remember when it starts to take him longer than five hours to write a response. And he definitely remembers when Oikawa starts to tease him about his hobby.

“You actually write to her every week?” Oikawa holds up the basket that Iwaizumi keeps all of her letters in. Carefully they are sectioned off by year and then by month. He has written the date they arrived in the corner of the envelope so he can keep all of them organized. When Oikawa starts to pull out letters, Iwaizumi rips the basket out of his hands and holds it close to his chest.

“No, Shittykawa. It’s every other week.” Iwaizumi sides the basket under his bed before slumping back down into his beanbag.

Oikawa grins before sitting down on a chair opposite to Iwaizumi. “Have you ever thought about asking her for her number?”

“Why would I?”

“Because then you guys can talk, without having to wait two weeks before the other responds.” Oikawa shrugs pulling out his phone to mess around on it, eyes peeking out over his glasses to look at Iwaizumi. “Unless, of course, you're afraid.”

“I am not afraid.” Iwaizumi grabs his clipboard to start writing his response letter, her most recent letter sitting on his side table so he can reference it.

Except, this time, instead of a nice long handwritten letter, it’s a simple series of numbers. And a small phrase. “Text me?” Iwaizumi considers drawing a smiley face, or even just a small shrugging stick figure drawing. But he thinks that what he wrote is enough. He hopes it’s enough for her to contact him.

The walk to drop off the letter in his mailbox is agonizing. He retreats twice before his mom yells at him and tells him he needs to send it today or else the letter schedule will be all messed up. The thought of Y/N having to wait longer than seven days to get his letter suddenly becomes more of a worry than his potential rejection of swapping numbers.

On day one, the day after the mailperson picked up the letter, Iwaizumi's hands were perpetually sweaty.

On day two, Iwaizumi felt a little better, he could forget all about his pen pal and then it would be perfectly fine. Except he could never forget her.

Days three to six were a blur. His phone felt heavier each day, and he even decided to leave it home from school on day six because he kept looking at it for too long. Checking again and again for any new messages.

(I wanna get real close to you)

Iwaizumi almost faints when an unrecognized number sends the phrase, “I know who you are Hajime.” He grips at his heart before easing up when the next message is sent. “Because it's me! Y/n L/n.”

She sends him a lot of Godzilla memes. She talks about her day. She asks him about volleyball. She rants about the people she goes to school with. She is perfect to him.

His palms are sweaty as he wipes them onto his joggers as he stares at Y/n’s contact. The phone icon mocking him for his nervousness. He takes a deep breath. She had told him that she’s used to having her friends call her an obnoxious number of times, but that she likes talking on the phone because she likes hearing people’s voices. Iwaizumi leans back on his desk chair and runs his hands through his hair.

He had drank his mother's throat soothing honey lemon tea for at least a week leading up to his decision to call her. But the nerves about what his voice sounded like still irked him. He had been told that he had a rough voice by his friends. A dorky voice from Oikawa. A lovely voice by his mom. What would she think though? Her opinion was the only one that really mattered anyway.

He stands up and shakes his legs and hands in an effort to get rid of his anxiety. He jumps around in his room for a bit as he tries to get his energy out. Iwaizumi puts his hands on his face and reminds himself, calling people is normal. Totally and completely normal. But his reminder does nothing to ease how his right hand is shaking while it hovers over the call button.

He presses the button and hold his phone to his ear, biting down on his lip.

“Hello?” Y/n’s voice asks. And Iwaizumi’s heart races as it tries to find a way to ingrain her voice upon itself.

“Y/n! Hi, it's me Hajime!” He cringes when he realizes how alike he sounds to Oikawa. Enthusiasm didn’t fit the way he acted, but the way Y/n interacted with him made him want to be as keen as possible.

“Hajime! What’s up?” A large smile overwhelms his face as he rubs the back of his head.

Neither really knows how long they spent on the phone talking. But by the time it was around two in the morning, Y/n was snoring softly over the phone and Iwaizumi was breathing at an even pace with his phone sitting on his pillow close to his ear.

(All night long)

[pruneunfair]

It's so interesting that my manhwha counterpart is freaking Navier

I used to always put her on this pedestal where she's the Perfect Empress

But then when things get old for me, I began to look at her as someone on the same level, as the character she is, not the preconceived image she posed, I began to understand her more and it's like looking into a mirror, Navier is the fairytale version of me

I'm the real life counterpart of her: My Life has some core similarities to her but ultimately there are differences: The big difference is that my life is unpredictable, not that predictable like hers, whereas she'll probably be remembered as a great historical figure, I probably will be just someone else in this Life

This is like someone's video on a famous historical figure, Empress Sissi, who was overly romanticized by recent media with everyone forgetting about who she was, the person that she was, just the images she has, the video isn't Perfect but I do agree with their points, we should stop the glorification of actual people cuz it's not respect, that's the biggest disrespect to someone

Navier is super tragic when you think about it, everything naturally becomes good for her so she has zero chance to be developed or undeveloped, practically stuck in the same stage, I know that feeling well: A decoration, that's what she is, it's undeniable, she basically sits back and let the men do everything for her, she isn't allowed to speak up cuz then narratively speaking, she's being an ungrateful bitch just like Rashta! Rashta was hated for not liking her own situation and trying to get out and if Navier does the same, she'll be exactly the same, Navier has this beautiful luxurious life therefore it's a crime if she says she wants something different right? Her life is already perfect so she does not need to care about anything else, wanting changes would make her a criminal in so many eyes

Both Navier and Rashta are truly the 2 sides of the same coin, it hurts that they got that route in the real story, this manhwha is oozing with misogyny when you think about it, it's just the old "Be good, get rewarded, Be bad, get punished" but in a conservative way

Navier is rewarded cuz she's the perfect traditional woman, Rashta is punished for trying to change her own fate and have a better life. Who benefited from this? The men ofc, literally Sovieshu and Heinrey never lost their privileges till the end, both still have powers and luxuries till the end, while Navier's suffering and Rashta's pain are nothing to her since they can always have ways to fix, but both the ladies can't be allowed to have their own ways

Think about it, sure Navier is a great person, but if someone is overly fanatic about her and did something purely in her name, then she can actually be blamed for it, it's crazy but it's true, not many people are willing to think critically about what someone did but the reason, then suddenly Navier is being wrong for being too perfect, isn't it? It's easier to hate than to love, they did it with Rashta anyway, honestly how would you feel if you're being treated like this and that when the other party definitely didn't know shit about you? That's how Navier's story feels, being treated like the Queen she is, NOT as the person she is, not as Navier but a Perfect Empress, this is how the Narrative treats her

Heinrey is no better than Sovieshu, just because he's the ML doesn't make him better, this guy is only better than Sovieshu bcuz we're looking at him through a romantic lens, why in an actual unbiased lens? He's basically a man who took advantage of a woman in a bad place and ended up being seen as a Hero for it, times where Heinrey is seen doing things better than Sovieshu to Navier even though it's the exact same thing

Like when Sovieshu gave Navier a luxurious ring and she acted rather unsurprising about it while when Heinrey does it, albeit with a less expensive ring, he's better cuz his romantic gesture is sincere unlike Sovieshu's even though it's the same thing, the difference is that Heinrey added a postcard to it, when I think about it, I really fail to see how there's a difference? It's the same thing, Heinrey is seen as better cuz he's seen as romantic, even though he basically did nothing better

If it was realistic, Navier would see Heinrey as very suspicious more like, how is she supposed to think Heinrey has good intentions, when it's clear that he's trying to fraternize with a married woman who's the Empress at that? Just because her husband did it, doesn't mean Heinrey is better than him okay? Sovieshu is actually seen as fine cuz it's a tradition that Emperors get to have an extra woman in his marriage, Heinrey however is unmarried and the fact he's doing it with Navier is rather wrong, if Navier was an unmarried lady, fine do it, but Navier was a Empress, it never occur to her that Heinrey is tryna get under her skin so he can steal some national classified secrets?

Navier definitely doubted Heinrey but it got brushed off cuz Heinrey is the Prince Charming isn't he? I've seen people causing wars for less if you look into history, if that had gotten out, imagine the chaos from both nations, the argument that "Sovieshu cheated so Navier should be allowed a lover" ain't gonna fly when the lover in question is a King from another nation, xenophobia isn't the issue, it's diplomacy, Sovieshu's objection towards that relationship would've made more sense if it was about the diplomacy, not out of his envy

This is the reason why Media literacy should be encouraged, if everyone is gonna see things through a certain lens, things would just be a huge mess, like that time everyone hated on this actual Empress in my country's history and asking stupid questions about her in a romantic way, even though she was in a purely political situation and romance means bullshit compared to it, yeah sure I believe she loved the Emperor she married, it doesn't mean she wouldn't harm him, you can love someone while also hurt them, it was a complicated situation, so I have nothing much to say about it, she was making decisions that involves the entire nation, not just a stupid romance, this is exactly why romance lens is harmful, do you think that if just because the Empress loved her husband, she wouldn't harm him even though he was proven unfit to be ruler (He apparently got a mental illness and too unstable to be ruling) and practically ignore the nation altogether for a romance that's useless in the fate of a nation, she would seem like a better person? Imagine sacrificing a nation for a romance that's useless to the lives of thousands, yeah that's a great mindset to have

Honesty your right about the "Be grateful for what your born with no matter what." Message because it's so easy to say Navier is more humble because she doesn't get so excited for expensive gifts even though A: Shes the empress so it's not that much of a stretch to assume she could easily afford those things and B: Sovieshu already love bombs her by buying her expensive items to win her back. Despite what the narrative says, Naviers life doesn't really change, she's still an empress, everyone loves her and her husband is the same as Sovieshu just obsessed with her but no one realizes it because it's all viewed with a romantic lens.

Rashta is seen as "ungrateful" because she would rather homewreck a marriage than go back to slavery, the ladies in waiting absolutely prove this point the narrative is saying by berating at her at all times and even only referring to her as "The slave" or "That woman." Shes someone who dared disrespect the status quo and now they must treat her awfully for it, but stans of the story only see what they want to see "Trashta getting trashed on"